Hell Follows Me
by Tora-Katana
Summary: Solitude his only solace, bitterness a stubborn companion, a terrible guarded secret his worst enemy… VergilxOC, Dante, and a lot of bitter dark chocolate...
1. Fire

**Disclaimer: **I don't claim anything or anyone in this fic that moves, to my greatest embitterment…

**Acknowledgements**: My warmest thanks to my glamorous assistant Tamato for doing a super job at correcting my mistakes and massive thanks to Ethan for painstakingly guiding me through the logical side of things. You both rock!!

Direct thoughts are in _italics; _Speech in "Double quotes".

If you like dark and gloomy with the occasional dark humour and a chocolate flavoured deliciousness then this is the place to be…

**Hell follows me**

**Fire **

The pleasant scent of fresh pinewood coiled softly in the shadowy room, brushing past the senses of a man sitting silently in a comfortable chair; mercifully pushing out the stubborn, dark thoughts that lingered so tenaciously in the shallows of his mind. At long last, his restless gaze settled on the bright flames, entrapped by the lure of their hellish dance. The soft crackling of burning wood slowly replaced the constant turmoil whirling in his head, hushing it into comfortable numbness. He leaned back deeper into the chair, welcoming the sublime serenity that settled around him like some spiritual entity.

The rigid, austere features he tended to wear like a symbiotic being on his face started to loosen up, the deep, hard lines born of a troubled past began to smooth out, revealing a visage that was once his own, content and torture free. Now a memory so distant, so unreal even he wouldn't be able to recall it, or even believe it.

Without blinking, his inhumanly pale moonstone eyes laced with delicate patterns of ice at the edges watched with detached fascination the battle for supremacy the fiery flames engaged in so relentlessly. Struggling to survive, ruthlessly consuming their rivals to gain more power, pushing with all they had, with all they could give, devouring all that stood in their path without discrimination or a hint of a remorse, without looking back, dying only to be reborn…a way of life so familiar to him, a way of life he so despised.

The cold glass felt warm in his icy hand, he swirled the smooth drink absently, his blue gaze shifting to the slender sword lying peacefully in his lap. His hand lifted the glass, the warm contents slid down his throat. For a moment his eyes closed as he prayed the alcohol would push back the rising grievance. It worked for now, just barely, how much longer would he be able to dull the pain with alcohol, he didn't know. What more was there to call upon when even his solid steel will and resolve, once so reliable, so dependable, were now failing, crumbling like a withering old tree? He leaned to the side, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, chin resting lightly in the palm of his hand, eyes open, unblinking, yet again reflecting the orange glow of the burning fire.

He let himself fall to numbness, his one last defence left, remaining completely motionless until the bitter cold threatened to crawl under his pallid skin, yet the threat went unanswered, unnoticed. It must have been at least an hour before his eyes, unwilling to move from the steadily dying fire slowly shifted to the side. But he felt the distant footsteps vibrate through the hard ground, heard the rustling of the frozen leaves, recognised the presence approaching his door, a presence he had no intention of inviting inside.

Still his peace was severed like a vital organ with a sharp knife, and with a bitter annoyance he straightened up his posture, sternness once again enfolded his body, face moulded into a rigid expression. Dark shadow passed through his steely eyes that settled back onto the nearly extinguished flames. It was a losing battle, the flames were running out of power, the oxygen was plentiful but no fuel to feed on, starved, entangled in hopelessness, they would soon breathe their last breath if something didn't happen soon, very soon…

A moment of silence ensued, his sharp, trained senses picked up the deep exhale of breath that created a frozen cloud in the late autumn air outside his door. A second later a booted foot connected with the sturdy door, wrenching the iron lock square out of the solid wooden frame with a terrible din of wood tearing apart, the hinges moaning under the strain yet by some miracle they remained seated as the door flew inward.

Not a single flinch or twitch of a muscle in acknowledgement of the unwelcomed intrusion, the man dressed in a large midnight-black trench coat placed the empty glass leisurely on the small table beside him. A blast of cold air preceded the confident, assured, irritating steps that followed in the hallway. A blur of red moved across his line of glazed vision and remained standing in front of him, if slightly to the side, eyes as bright and blue as a clear sky silently boring into his own.

Seemingly unappreciative of being ignored after what appeared like minutes of uncomfortable silence the tall man frowned, finally addressing his unwilling host in an urgent tone that demanded attention.

"Vergil…"

The response came a whole moment later in the form of a low growl, then as a steady, monotone flow of words escaping from barely moving lips.

"That's a third frame you have so inconsiderably destroyed with your unfathomable resistance to learn even the simplest of manners. Would you at least care to learn to knock, a habit you have no doubt heard of before?" Vergil spoke clearly, in a snappy tone, his dulled eyes never leaving the smouldering black cinders that were all that was left of the once brightly burning fire. The battle was lost now, the flames all dead, only the dark smoke remained as a bitter proof of their existence. Only smoke, no fire. He blinked absently.

"And what use would that be," the man in front of him sighed. "You see, if you actually bothered to come to the door and open it once, just once, then maybe I wouldn't need to kick it in," he continued in a slightly reproachful tone that was etched with sarcasm, arms folded defiantly on his chest.

"You would be surprised to discover how far a bit of common courtesy and decorum can get you, Dante," Vergil kept his tone cold and monotone, the black smoke reflecting in his unmoving eyes like shards of tattered dark shadows. The name of his guest was a whispered breath, dark and sardonic.

"So far all I have discovered is that brute force can get me even further," his guest smirked sheepishly as for a moment his mounting frustration subsided at the sad irony in his words, and the absurdity in Vergil's. Common courtesy his ass! It would only get him killed before he even figured out what it meant.

"Would it be so terribly inconvenient for you to abstain from disregarding everything I say and refrain from engaging in methods more suitable for a breed of a savage beast deprived of all contact with civilisation?"

Dante rolled his eyes. "In English?"

"Knock!"

"And you would simply come to open the door if I did?" Dante remarked arguably, raising his silver brow in doubt.

"No," Vergil snapped with a note of irritation after a short, breathless pause.

"I rest my case," the man wrapped in a shiny crimson coat grinned widely, hoping that Vergil would see the funny side of their meaningless argument, only succeeding in adding to Vergil's bitterness.

"The usual reason for ignoring ones presence at the door is that the occupant is not in a favour of the company wishing to gain entrance," the older looking man, sitting painfully straight in his chair snarled critically, the hard tone of his voice hinting that his tolerance of the intruder in red was now on a short timer.

The other stared blankly, apparently used to this kind of cold, short fused treatment but still completely befuddled by the contradicting patience and tiresome habit of his host to turn what could be a simple statement into something utterly incomprehensible, using ten times as many words than was necessary. "Meaning?"

Vergil blinked away the sudden urge to strangle something with his silently clenching hand. "Would you prefer the polite version or the short…"

"I take the shortest possible," the other interjected eagerly.

"You are not welcome here, Dante," only now did Vergil raise his glacial eyes to look directly and deeply at his self invited guest. It didn't faze the other man at all; he was more disappointed not to hear Vergil simply say 'fuck off'.

"Had it not occurred to you that maybe that is the reason why I keep coming here?" Dante threw his hands in the air, the increased level of frustration revealed by his woeful grin.

"It had indeed. You always enjoyed annoying me, dear brother," Vergil kept his voice habitually polite but the line of his mouth tightened with growing irritation, eyes slipping to look to his right. He picked up the decanter that sat conveniently on the coffee table and calmly refilled his glass. Despite the well maintained composure, Dante could see the barely visible shake of his brother's hand, a hand that never used to falter even in the direst of life threatening situations.

"Dammit Vergil! I am worried about you. What happened to you man!" Dante snapped, unable to keep his cool any longer, his equally pale blues, only missing the hardness and ice, peered at the worn out image that used to resemble him so closely. Now his twin brother, older only by minutes, appeared older by years and there was a frightening hollowness to his eyes that so starkly counteracted the beauty of his face that still remained there.

"That is not something I wish to discuss with you," he said quietly, staring blankly at the dead fire as the last curl of inky smoke dissipated into the cold air. The only illumination left in the dim room came from a set of sable candles placed on the mantelpiece, their flickering radiance casting even more shadows over his pale and tired skin.

"Look at yourself, you drink…," Dante made an involuntary grimace as it was a habit he himself indulged in yet his brother never did, "…you barely eat, you don't seem to leave this place, why the hell do you live here anyway?" The younger man paced in front of the fireplace, gesturing around with his hands peevishly.

"I can't even bear to be here for a few minutes! It will eat you up until there is shit left," Dante fumed in exasperation, his voice gaining in volume. Harshly, he snatched the glass that was about to be brought up to his brother's stern lips in angry disappointment. Some of the contents splashed out. "You don't even look like me anymore," he added mournfully, nearly shouting. That probably hurt him the most as he was always so excited, ever since he was little to have an identical twin brother, the possibilities were endless then.

"I fail to see how any of that is your concern," Vergil hissed out between his clenched teeth, hinting the timer on his patience had just run out or was wearing very thin.

Dante regarded his twin with startled disbelief, his frustration turning into a throbbing ache that stabbed at his heart. How could Vergil be so cruel, so callous, so ignorant…

"My family _is_ my concern," Dante yelled in desperation, jabbing his thumb at his chest to accentuate that he indeed was family in case Vergil failed to notice.

"Your point is?" the older twin said in an uncaring manner, pulling out a clean tissue to wipe the spilled brown liquid from his hand impassively, only a trembling lower lip an indication that his composure was ruffled.

"My point?!" Dante exclaimed in utter astonishment, nearly choking as he turned away, raking his hand through his platinum hair, then turned back to face Vergil, breathing hard. "Is there still any part of you that wants to join the living? Because if you do, sometime this century would be nice." he asked in a darker tone, lowering his voice in a manner that surprised even him.

"Leave me."

The lethargy and finality in his brother's stone cold tone crawled over Dante's skin. He felt a disturbing sense of déjà vu; it was like spinning in a circle that had no way out, round and round.

"You said that the last time," Dante exhaled in a defeated sigh, his hands dropping helplessly by his side. He put the glass back on the table.

Vergil spoke no more. He never did after he had asked him to leave.

"All right," Dante rubbed his chin grimly in reluctant resignation. "But you better get a supply of spare door parts cause I will keep coming and help me god I will make you alive again, even if I have to drag you out of that deep shit hole of yours kicking and screaming," he didn't wait for a response that he knew would never come and made a move for the exit. The door slammed behind him, sending a waft of cold draft through the already chilly room.

The silence dropped on him like the ugly lid of a coffin. The calmness brought out by the crackling of the burning wood became entombed together with the soothing scent of pinewood that no longer hung in the air, leaving nothing but an empty stillness in the shady room.

Vergil took the glass from where his unwelcomed guest had left it and brought it to his lips to down its contents quietly, then stared at the empty glass absently for some time before placing it gently back on the table. His moonstone eyes traversed down to become fixated on the exposed sliver of metal sleeping peacefully across his knees, catching a strange shimmer of light from the polished blade.

The empty, distorted, hollow reflection caught in the cold, deadly steel whispered back darkly, daring him to oppose it, to wipe its ugly, deformed face from its miserable existence. As if in obedience his thumb moved, and pressed ever so slightly into the razor sharp edge, his dulled eyes watching a bead of his blood traverse the shiny steel, and spill over the reflected image of himself that he didn't recognise. His long, slender fingers tightened around the ornate hilt, one by one, wrist turned toward his chest an inch at a time.

He didn't know if Dante was right about how he looked. It wasn't as if there were any mirrors to look into, they were all broken, not that he had the need, or any reason to check his visage, not anymore. Some years ago he would have been pleased that he no longer resembled his twin, his lips twitched with bitter sarcasm at the thought, if only briefly. Only now, it didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered as the unstoppable emptiness threatened to swallow his mind again and drag him under, each time further and deeper, and he found himself falling into its dark, bottomless, pulsating bowels, ever so slowly driven to insanity…

_Give me the strength…_

…_to stop it, to slow it down, to withstand its insuperable pull, give me more time…_

But the fire was dead, the insides burnt out, leaving nothing but an empty shell that could crumble to dust at the lightest of touches, at any moment. The oxygen was plentiful in the air yet he struggled to breathe, in the cold and dark as if lying in a coffin, in a confined space, the walls were caving in again, crushing him, yet the screams didn't come out, no one could hear, and so he welcomed the abysmal darkness, when the remaining candlelight flickered its last breath away.

His eyes fell shut tight, the cold steel pressing invitingly into the pale skin of his pulsing neck, he too would breathe his last breath, he would set himself free from the wasting madness, if something didn't happen soon, very soon…

If he couldn't find it…

_Is that…_

_Was that…how my father felt…_


	2. Monterey

_I think you will hate this, but please don't kill me for having to introduce an OC, if you find it in your heart to read on, I promise it will get better from the next chapter! R&R please? Flames welcome too if you feel like it…_

_I do respond to all who review personally, to those without an account I thank with all my heart, the encouragement you give me is immense!! _

_And a special thanks to my Betas – a pack of Mint Aeros to Tamato and a cookie the size of Mars to Blue-Wolf-Ethan!! You guys are such a great help and make my writing even more enjoyable :D_

**Monterey**

"They are all…way too close to the town," she leaned her petite form back in the uncomfortable plastic chair with a soft, tired sigh, giving the questionable office a speculative sweep with her brown eyes. The unidentifiable stains on the supposedly white walls and the crumbling plaster was giving the whole place a very dubious feel but she was simply too tired to try her luck elsewhere. "Don't you have something a bit more…remote?"

The woman in her mid forties shot the younger one a quick glance from behind the cheap looking plastic office desk that seemed to be used as a rubbish bin, the amounts of stacked up paper sprinkled with wide assortment of crumbs appeared ready to fall off at any moment. Her glance held a barely concealed displeasure, seemingly regarding the demands as quite unconventional and nigh on impossible to fulfil. The real estate agent, Lea was her name as was apparent from the name tag pinned to her light blue uniform, tapped her fingers frantically on the keyboard, frowning at the computer screen.

Nervousness paid the young woman a visit in the stomach as she sat there, getting a little too warm in her gray lamb's wool sweater and tight fitting blue jeans. She watched Lea shake her head, continuously, for what seemed like five minutes. Then she saw her lips twitch and slowly pull up into a satisfied smile. "We had almost taken this place off the market as no one was interested because of the…," Lea stopped abruptly, reconsidering what to say as the word 'rumours' could only deter her client and she would be only happy to finally get rid of this place. "…bad weather that tends to hang around in that area," she finished with a well placed smile to recover from her unforgivable hesitation.

"Bad weather?" her client suddenly perked up, leaning forward in the badly shaped chair, a hopeful glint sliding across her up to now distant eyes.

"It's the fog, the place is usually covered with it being so close to the lake. Nothing to worry about," Lea quickly reassured her, seeing her client's eyes eagerly awaiting her explanation. "Cheap too. The owner never adjusted the asking price after nearly three years and it must be worth at least double now. Fully furnished too," she said encouragingly, pulling the records up on her screen. In fact no member of the agency had been there for years and she wasn't even sure if the place was still liveable or even standing. Yet no one had given the agency instructions to actually take it off the market so legally she was still entitled to rent it out.

"That's not what I am worried about," the young woman quickly set the agent straight, smoothing her hand over her stylishly cut chestnut hair impatiently. "Is it isolated?"

"It doesn't get much more remote than this. It's a quiet, tranquil place. In fact I believe no one has set a foot there for years. You would be completely undisturbed," Lea said enthusiastically, regarding her client with well practiced patience, skilfully hiding her keen anticipation. She was going to make this deal, she could almost taste its sweetness on her tongue, consciously refraining from licking her lips.

"Perfect," the woman nodded in approval. "I'll take it."

"Don't you want to see it first?" the agent blinked at her in surprise but didn't feel compelled to press the matter further when her client simply shook her head.

"No need, it meets all my criteria and the fog is a bonus," she gave an unconvincing smile and pulled out a pen from a small rucksack that rested in her lap. "Where do I sign?"

Lea stared for a while with a pensive expression as a small pang of guilt attacked her conscious. It lasted all but a few seconds. After all they were exactly what they were, just rumours, she justified her ignorance to her own simplistic mind. And her client was a complete stranger, they were not fond of strangers around here in their closely guarded community, so if anything was to happen… no one would question it, no one would lift a finger.

"Is there a problem," the young woman shifted her legs nervously, her firm voice disguising the brief anxiety that started to ebb at her insides. There was no way she could let this go, for whatever reason, it simply sounded too good.

"No," the older woman recovered quickly by sneaking her professional smile back onto her cherry red lips and getting up, she padded across the stained, nondescript carpet over to a free standing filing cabinet. Rummaging through, she pulled out a file from the far end of the bottom drawer and brought it back to the paper-cluttered desk. The file was dropped amongst all the other much newer looking correspondence and a large puff of years old dust rose high into the air. Lea waved her hand in front of her to help dissipate the cloud that caused them both to cough, then opened the file and presented the contents to her client.

"I will require a deposit for two months, then we will debit your card for every additional month you stay. Print your name here and then sign here, credit card details here," Lea made a cross where the contract was supposed to be signed and then turned to her dirt covered computer.

"No, I will pay cash," the young woman interjected swiftly, pulling out the required amount to cover two months from her rucksack.

Then her full lips pursed as she wiggled her pen between her fingers. The slim black pen was lowered down but her hand hovered above the paper as she absent-mindedly stared at the blank space that read 'tenant's name'. Her left hand sank into the thick trusses of her deep maroon hair in thought. Then her right hand moved and she wrote in stylish letters: Vesta Gray.

Keeping an eye on her client by means of a series of inconspicuous side-glances Lea snatched the contract from under the brunette's elbow as soon as she signed it, swiftly dropping the keys in her hand in exchange. "So, congratulations Miss…," she looked at the name on the contract, "…Gray, you got yourself a beautiful place. Let us know if you have any problems…," _as if we would actually be inclined to give a shit about them_, "…and don't forget to give a month's notice before you intend to leave," she chimed with an expertly high spirited voice, with an even more encouraging smile snaking across her painted mouth.

Vesta let the keys dig into her palm as she squeezed them, or rather it, as in fact it was one large key with an intricate design carved into its head. Like a key for a castle waiting for a princess, she thought grimly, yet she was quite happy to get up from the badly designed chair that must have made her spine tied in a knot for sure.

She flung her red rucksack over her shoulder and once at the door waved at the agent who called out hurriedly after her. "Oh, Miss, you better take this with you or you will never find it."

Vesta turned back and reached out to take what looked like a map out of Lea's hands. Across the top of the old looking, slightly oiled paper it read in long, old style writing: Monterey.

What a beautiful name, the young woman thought as she stepped out of the run down agency into the cobbled streets of the small rural town. The sun, hung low in the late autumn sky, shined its last rays of the day onto the darkening stone buildings, already on its lonely way to dip behind the horizon.

Even with a map it could be challenging to find this place, especially in the dark, she quickly realised, speeding up her pace to return to her car. At least the little blue sports car was still where she left it, in its own little spot well away from all the other odd means of transport that looked like echoes of some forgotten time. This whole place was giving her the creeps. All the while she was there countless faces were giving her nothing but stern and haughtily untrusting looks as though she was an alien from another planet, despised and unwelcomed.

In a way it was surprising that the agency actually offered her a place to stay as she was beginning to think that Lea didn't conduct much business in that pigsty she called the office and was only pretending to find it difficult to match her requirements that were not all that unreasonable.

Still this all suited her perfectly. She had no need to mingle or make acquaintances and this way she was more likely to be left alone, undisturbed, and unquestioned. A small smile crept onto her soft vermillion lips as she thought of the possibilities her new life could bring while climbing into her light blue car. Her smile faltered somehow as she looked at the map for closer inspection and her eyes took in the hand drawn layout on the oil stained yellow paper marked with long forgotten ancient symbols that she didn't understand.

Perhaps she should wait till tomorrow and drive there in the morning, in the daylight, the darkness now looming too expectantly in the prolonging shadows as the sun nearly disappeared behind the small, two storey houses of the central square. Vesta allowed herself a short sigh, turning her head to look out the side window only to get a glimpse of an old couple engaged in a deep glare in her direction while chewing on something that was just then spat out right onto the cobbled pavement. Guessing what it was would only make her feel sick for sure. They haven't moved from that spot ever since she parked the car, in fact quite a few faces were observing her again with crinkled expressions like she was some new species they had never discovered before.

They could all go to hell for all she cared, she was getting fed up with their idiotic, in-your-face mannerisms anyway. With her tongue proudly stuck out she made a mocking grimace through the window, happily noting their stunned and appalled reaction before she stepped on the gas and sped off into the dusky streets. Come to think of it she didn't even remember seeing one single dingy hotel in this bizarre place, and that made her even more determined to find Monterey now, before it turned pitch black.

The last of the houses quickly disappeared, replaced by lush green fields grazed upon vigorously by fluffy sheep, their near white coats starting to shine strangely in the strengthening cascade of moonlight. Even they raised their expressionless muzzles and glared sternly while chewing on grass and weeds, only they didn't spit it out and their faces didn't sport an ugly countenance. At least the animals had slightly better manners around here, Vesta thought with an irate smirk as she turned her attention back to the uneven road, soon after swearing aloud at the number of potholes she had to navigate around. The thought of running a flat out here, under the full moon, sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, she didn't trust the eerily glaring sheep one bit.

Then without any warning the road decided to split into three and Vesta had to stop and pull out the map to get an idea of which way to go. Of course it had to be the one that narrowed into a single track and led into a thick, dark and untamed forest. The mass of trees resembled an impenetrable wall of wilderness, a black barrier made of shapes that no sculptor could have even dreamed of, long and disfigured branches of ancient trees reclaiming the space above the manmade strip of pale concrete.

Some branches, hanging low and menacing, made her subconsciously lower her head as though they could decapitate her through the roof of the car. With eyes looking up she subsequently laughed at the silly notion, swearing right after as she had to abruptly jerk the wheel to avoid a broken off branch that blocked half of the already narrow road. The car skidded to a halt, facing the thickness of bushes and leaves that the headlights illuminated with two perfectly shaped cones of bright light.

Vesta leaned forward to peer through the windscreen, squinting, her heart beating fast from the shock of nearly crashing her car, she could make out at least a half dozen pairs of shiny yellow eyes sternly protruding from the belly of the darkness. Was there anything in this sodding place that didn't glare? Would it not be more productive for the inert idiots she encountered in the town to clear the blasted roads around here instead of staring stupidly at strangers?

Laughter filled the small confines of the blue sports car and it instantly calmed her nerves down. What was she getting so riled up about anyway? Must have been a long day, searching for a place to live since the crack of dawn, for a week now, at least that overly chatty caricature of a man at the gas station pointed her to this place to guarantee what she was looking for, god only knows why he didn't mention that it was brimming with retired, hardcore psychopaths but at least she would finally have her own roof above her head instead of those dingy and dirty motels.

With a soft sigh and roll of her eyes she put the gear into reverse and then resumed her journey to a place she hoped would finally give her some long awaited peace and privacy. The hardwood forest seemed never-ending, the moonlight struggling to get through the narrow gap between the treetops, making its way through the prolonged shadows to reach the road as the night darkened. Vesta had to strain her eyes not to miss the turning that should lead to Monterey, drawn on the old map somewhere to the right.

And there it was, a mere dirt track off into the depths of the forest, the trees seemed to incline even more, almost intimately trying to reach each other across in a long endured longing, their intertwined branches creating a strange arbour that blocked all but a few strands of the lunar haze and it turned almost impenetrably black. The path, reclaimed by weeds and small mounds of mossy carpets, narrowed even more and after what seemed like countless minutes driving at a tediously slow speed as the uneven, crumbly surface didn't allow for more. A sturdy gate finally appeared in the near distance, torn out of the darkness by the strong beam of the headlamps.

Expectant smile dancing merrily on her lips, Vesta pressed her foot harder on the gas, eager to finally arrive at her new home. But soon she had to stop the car, unable to go any further, the chained metal gate blocking the path. The heavy car door opened and a booted foot dropped down unsteadily into the small ditch fouled with mud, splashing it onto the blue jeans and the already black grass. Vesta climbed out of the warmth of the car and rubbed her arms as the chill of the late autumn night touched her skin. She approached the closed off entrance, noticing something white piled up under a rusty metal box that hang precariously on the side of the gate.

Bending down she picked up a sample of what turned out to be heaps and heaps of uncollected letters and junk mail lying on the muddied ground all soaked in dirty rain water, in some places stuck together and completely discoloured. Scanning through the sea of envelopes, she could clearly see in the brightness of the headlights that they were all last dated about six months ago. It seemed the mail had stopped since then, perhaps they finally realised no one bothered to pick it up. Had the previous occupant not notified anyone of their departure?

A shiver suddenly slid down the whole length of her spine at the thought that perhaps someone was still in the house, possibly now dead? Vesta tensed and glanced around her. Despite the complete lack of wind the crooked braches seemed to move and the withering leaves rustled, sounding like the whispers of ghostly footsteps aimlessly wandering through the thick of the wild and deformed undergrowth.

'_In fact I believe no one had set a foot there for years'_, she recalled the words of the strange woman in the agency, words that meant to be encouraging, only now they seemed so haunting and unnerving. The hollow sound of an owl pierced through the darkness and it made her quickly snap out of her blooming paranoia.

She shook her head at the ridiculous thoughts, dropping the letters she held in her hand, nonetheless wondering whether she should have checked the place beforehand like any normal person with a sound mind would do. She was getting reckless, losing perspective, nothing seemed too dangerous anymore.

Still there were no such things as ghosts and monsters prowling through the cold night to pray on lonely and unsuspecting souls, only other humans and possibly a few ambitious sheep but she was quite confident she could take them on herself.

Noticing there was no lock on the chain wrapped loosely round the gates, with a dauntless glint in her eyes and a decisive snigger, Vesta gave the gate a forceful push with her hands, the chain rolled off with a loud chink and the metal bars creaked open.

The noise disturbed the night and the flapping of wings followed, accompanied by a distant howling, only it was impossible to see through the daunting thickness of the branches and dark shadows that enveloped her where the howling was coming from. Wolves perhaps? Vesta shrugged it off uncaringly as they were not uncommon in the wilderness around where she used to live, so it wouldn't be surprising if this place was no different. It was however time to move on, she thought as the chills dug their ugly nails into her tender skin that erupted into an army of goose bumps and she returned to her car, driving through the open gate.

The shine of the moon filled the open space, clear and pure, much stronger than the weak haze that fought its way through the thick forest. The path revealed in front of her appeared like a white snake, illuminated brightly by the headlight. The fine gravel gave off a loud crunch under the roll of the firm wide tyres.

Here the thick forest was taken over, quickly and suddenly, by vast parkland that would have been beautiful was it not neglected since long ago.Untamed bushes and majestic trees that seemed older than time itself lay scattered around in solitude or forming lush oasis in the sea of grassas if by the fleeting whim of a long forgotten artistthat painted a surreal vision only found a fairy-tales**. **However with time the wild grass conquered every corner of the park, and now was shooting its knee-high silvery moonlit spikes to the heavens as though in a hopeless race trying to reach them.

The horizon seemed lined with a wall of pure darkness that disguised the true size of the grounds and made them seem infinite.

Soon an intense shimmer came into view on the left hand side. It was the lake Lea mentioned that the grounds sloped off into, and oddly enough a patchy fog dressed in the brilliance of the moonlight crept silently across its calm and glass-like surface. Even the light wind that she felt earlier in the town didn't break the moony water, in fact there was no wind at all as though it halted at the forest boundary, afraid to intrude on this dream-drowned land.

Vesta slowed down to lessen the noise the tyres made on the fine gravelly path, holding her breath, afraid to be too loud and breach the immortal tranquillity that enfolded her like a calming hand. Amidst the slight feeling of unease that crept over her skin there was no disappointment at the sense of privacy and complete isolation that the ample grounds were giving off. A hope of finally being able to stay still, untroubled, and undiscovered flashed through her mind. Here nothing moved, even the car seemed out of place with the unmistakeable noise of modern life. All around here stood still in time and space it seemed, untouched, undisturbed by human hand, a perfect forgotten hideaway.

As the car came to a full stop all sounds vanished completely, swallowed by the dead stillness. The edge of the fog crept out from the nearby lake as if reaching out to engulf the intruder. Through the misting windscreen, her eyes peered sternly at the quiet and imposing house that stood right in front of her, as if right in the middle of the nature reclaimed grounds. As she switched the lights off, the natural gray stone appeared dusted with the palest ash on the moonlit wall; the windows dark and mysterious in stark contrast, unwilling to reveal what lay on the inside as if keeping some dark and terrible secret.

Nature had not threatened the stately country house as though its green tendrils would have been burnt or hurt by touching those unscathed and unbroken walls. Even the rampant ivy tried its best to avoid the manmade structure, instead suffocating everything else in its vicinity with its unstoppable twisty tentacles.

Not letting her eyes stray off the large spellbound house, Vesta slipped out of the stale confines of the car, inhaling the freshness of the air that was filled with the soft scent of untouched wilderness and something else pleasant that she couldn't quite indentify. As she rounded the corner and neared the front façade of the old mansion along a small footpath, the full size of the house came into view, revealing its true shape that ultimately surprised her.

The rather low but broad proportions were composed of two identical l-shaped wings connected at the longer side, yet clearly the house was divided into two parts with a separate entrance on either side, and none in the middle. It was slightly disconcerting that someone else could actually occupy one of the wings. The agency never mentioned such nontrivial detail to her, but it seemed not a soul had been there for years, which was obvious by the heap of uncollected letters, so why worry about it now?

The frontage of the two storey mansion was adorned by many large, twelve-pane windows that on the first floor were interspaced by statues of gargoyles , whose faces were twisted into the most disturbing and scary expressions. The roof appeared flat, cluttered by high chimneys reaching to the sky. The entire building gave off a feeling of emptiness, not a flicker of light to suggest a sign of life inside, only dead silence and eerie stillness begging to be left undisturbed.

Vesta shrugged and pulling out the heavy key from her front pocket she decided to try her luck with the door on the right, pushing the key into the keyhole. It fit perfectly.

_Welcome to my new life_, she exhaled heavily, pushing at the door, almost expecting it to creak like the gate, but it opened smoothly as if it was oiled just the day before. An absolute darkness hit her first and it made her grimace at the ironic thought that darkness was just what she had welcomed herself into.

She kind of expected to be greeted with a very stale and dusty air and to her surprise the smell was unusually pleasant. It reminded her of some sort of exotic leather with strong hints of dark chocolate. It was that delicious, expensive kind of chocolate rich in coco, almost as if made of pure coco beans and it made her close her eyes for a few seconds to breathe it in.

It seemed like a corner room because she could just about make out four windows on the right wall and looking back behind her, one above the door. But not even the moonlight shone into the darkness embraced room that might have been the lobby, as the moon had just become obscured by some heavier clouds that she didn't see before.

Vesta started to grope about the walls spontaneously in hope of finding a light switch but it soon became obvious that there was none. Despite the old fashioned style buildings and prehistoric relics they passed as cars in the town she didn't see that one coming! At least they did have electricity in town. Was this place unoccupied for so long that no one bothered to update it? Surely no modern man would forgo such an essential commodity? Vesta mused as her heels crunched on the footpath on her way back to the car.

The predicament was quickly solved by turning on the headlights that instantly flooded the windows of the side stone wall with a steady beam of white light, which spilled into the gloom of the building and penetrated the dark. Satisfied, with her hands placed on her hips once she returned to the doorstep, Vesta surveyed the now abundantly lit interior.

It was just like an old English manor house with a great hall that spanned both floors proudly displaying its glory under a magnificent oak timbered ceiling. Polished hardwood floors made from noble brown chestnut that continued its splendour up the panelled walls and the masterfully carved staircase leading to the first floor gave the room dark and opulent feel. Beautifully crafted chairs and cabinets were blending into the stately charm yet their traces of gothic style lent the hall an eerie atmosphere. To add to the mysterious air that enveloped the entire place, a set of oil lamps hung on the walls, seemingly to provide the only means of illumination.

Her lips pursed into a small frown. So very conveniently, in the ironic sense, she was a non-smoker, therefore carrying no matches or firelighter, and there was no way to light the lamps unless there was a slight glimmer of hope that such items could be idling somewhere in the house. The frown morphed into a bitter smile and she had to bring up her hand to cover up her mouth, suppressing a snigger of amazement at the thought of her making fire by sparking two rocks together or by rubbing wood. That was something she never even dreamed of thinking about when she used to live in the city. This was going to be harder than she thought.

Running her hand across her face with a resigned exhale of air, Vesta surmised the situation into a simple reality. There was nothing she could do in the dark. It would all have to wait till the morning and then she would sort things out. Despite the dark it was still an early evening but she had a bitch of a day, her feet hurt from running around all day and a good sleep could help clearing her head of the memories all those weirdos that seemed to have congregated in this primeval corner of the world.

The thought of a torch she kept in the car suddenly crossed her mind and it sent her back to the car. It would have to do at least for now to find somewhere to wash up and sleep. The lights switched off, she hauled out her heavy suitcase and flung her rucksack over her shoulder.

Then finally, armed with the torch, she was climbing the staircase as her common sense told her the bedrooms would be located on the first floor. The steps were solid under her feet, not a single sound broke the ghostly silence. Then, as soon as she stepped onto the wide landing, where the stairs turned to the left, the wood gave out a loud groan in protest under the plush crimson rug that covered it.

Her eyes were drawn up by the feel of something foreboding looking at her as if awakened by the sound she made and she briefly froze, ending up staring into the bulging eyes of a creature not of this world.

The whole of its sinewy, skinless like body seemed twisted in agony most unimaginable, blood-shot eyes staring wildly, pointy-teethed mouth open in a petrified cry of pain never given change to escape, scarlet liquid dripping freely from a tip of a sword that protruded out of its mangled and blood soaked belly. That was scary enough but as her eyes shifted further upwards she flinched, nearly dropping the heavy suitcase, seeing _what_ had slain the monster writhing in its last moments of existence.

It was a monster even more terrifying, its body carved out of a scaly mass of dark purple, so dark it almost made her eyes believe it was black; the opening of a mouth lined with sharp fangs was shaped by a malevolent and satisfied sneer. Enormous horns jetted out of its skull and curved forward, giving no misguided impression of great power and deadly purport. But it was its eyes that made her whole body resonate with an inward shiver. She felt a bead of cold sweat slither down her temple, but as she tried to wipe it away nervously, she realized it was only her imagination playing tricks on her. But those eyes, they were not observing its dying pray, they were looking at her, cold and bottomless, their swirling pools pulling her into the darkness filled with despair, the desire to be freed from its unholy existence was screaming out…

Vesta blinked wide eyed and quickly pulled her gaze away, swearing that the painting looked way too alive. Not the typical art one would expect. Quite an unusual and explicit choice, she mused, for a property offered to the public population, since the majority could be labelled as excessively squeamish or clingy to the pretty aspects of life, denying or unaware of its true cruel side, ignorant as it may be. However it wasn't in her nature, or simply her experience didn't allow her to pull the wool over her own eyes when it came to the true, ugly face of life. But she still didn't need to look at the horror on the wall every time she would go to bed, especially since those hellish, unforgiving eyes would followed her every move.

_Just you wait till I learn to glare like that_, she mumbled to herself, hauling the suitcase up the stairs one step at a time. Finally, once on top of the staircase, she could see a long corridor with two doors on either side. It spelled a promise of what she was looking for. The circle of light gliding across the dark wooden wall, Vesta approached the first door on the left and slowly pushed it open. The light of the torch fell upon a vision drawn into life out of the shadows and she dropped her suitcase absently on the floor. Her mouth hang open, eyes unmoving from what stood like an island in the ocean of the deep brown floor, illuminated in the darkness as if in a spotlight.

It was a magnificent, masterfully crafted four poster canopy bed, the epitome of divine, its plush bedding pleading to be dived into. The sight of it made her want to weep and thank god for small blessings which didn't happen very often. Yet there was something off-putting floating in the air that enveloped the dark masterpiece, a whisper of the past telling a tale of a terrible tragedy and loss: the bedding was dressed in shiny black satin sheets that resembled a coffin, dark wood embellished in rich carvings that carried a gruesome theme similar to the painting in the hall, black satin drapes that would be on a par to any funeral decoration hung over the imposing frame.

However the thought of enjoying a good night sleep in a beautiful if somewhat sombre bed after spending night after night in shabby motels that dared to classify a mattress and a set of springs as something comfortable to sleep on overshadowed any creepy feelings that she might have had, and not even a resident ghost, the idea off which she simply laughed off could scare her off.

Still the feeling wouldn't subside as Vesta brought the suitcase into the dusky room, glancing back at the dark and mysterious bed as her fatigued feet shuffled past. She paused in the middle of the spacious room, her gaze resting on an elegant loveseat that was neatly tucked under a beautiful bay window, the dim moonlight streaming its faded ethereal light onto the soft fabric, very invitingly so.

There was this strange feeling that accompanied her ever since stopping at that deserted gas station in the middle of the dusty road and she felt it more again in that strange town. It was akin to the sensation she got quite often when kissing a man she really fancied, a burning and tingling feeling in her stomach, only this time it had some very unpleasant side effects, like a sense of something sinister lurking about, watching her, whispering darkly and inaudibly, yet her mind didn't seem to panic as if it was nothing to be worried about.

Shouldn't she be scared? Travelling alone, in a foreign land, quite often at night or in the dark, driving well after sunset to a place she knew nothing about, a place so isolated it would take weeks or months even for someone to discover her mangled body…

Absentmindedly, she knelt on the seat and leaning forward, turned her gaze towards the star littered sky. There were so many, millions more than she ever noticed before, the bright lights of the city obscuring the true extent of their vastness. While here, in the absolute darkness, not a single light spoiling their brilliance, she could see every single one no matter how low their brightness.

Absolute darkness around her…and no electricity, she nearly laughed again at the irony of how her bright new future was turning out. Her hazel brown eyes fell upon the lifeless façade of the house, now fully visible from this angle and she stared at the black windows set in the pale stone, wondering how together they resembled hollowed-out eyes of a skeleton.

Scary or not, this was her new home now and no doubt it would all be much more cheerful in the morning, Vesta reasoned, about to pull away from the window when she noticed something shine, hidden behind the antique armchair.

Stretching her arm out, she fumbled about until her hand touched a cold surface. It was a telescope of some sorts, she discovered, pulling it out onto her lap. This house was just full of surprises, she thought, glancing out with a growing smile as a small memory of her childhood flashed past. Her smile turned wicked and her teeth sank into her lower lip at the thought of what she used to spy on.

_Alas nothing to spy on here apart from the ducks and the ghosts_, Vesta let out a subdued giggle.

And then she flinched in shock, nearly falling off the chair as she saw a faint yellow light flicker in one of the top windows on the opposite side of the obscured house. The dull light, like a tiny sphere wrapped in ethereal haze, hovered in the air as if held by an invisible hand.

Her eyes transfixed at its glow, pulse racing, she froze as the small spectral ball began to glide down only to vanish behind the solid wall. She waited, breaths shallow as her heart thumped wildly in her chest, eyes peeled at the spot where the light should reappear, the next window, the one on the ground floor.

And there it was, dancing in the glass, pane by pane until it disappeared again.

She couldn't believe it, in fact she _didn't_ believe it, but still let her mind word the thought.

_This house…does have a ghost_.

_Or worse yet…_

…_another tenant_.


	3. Fresh air and the other kind

**Fresh air and the other kind**

A golden sheen touched the room clad in dark brown wood as the morning sun flooded in mercilessly, lighting up even the darkest corners. The petite frame nestled underneath the sumptuous layers of silky softness moved reluctantly, eyelids fluttering as chocolate brown irises fought against the unforgiving rays of bright light, the rested body unwilling to admit that it was time to get up. The uninterrupted sleep was heaven sent and despite the gloomy outlook of the seemingly haunted four-poster in the murky darkness, it was the best sleep she had ever had.

But the wonderful feeling of a brand new day of her new life just waiting to be experienced made her jump out of the bed after disentangling herself from the warm sheets. Her body almost instantly went into a shock as the bitterly cold air enfolded her, drawing out massive goose bumps on her bare skin. It had been even colder last night but the prominent aroma of exotic leather and dark chocolate that the bed was saturated with, together with the sumptuousness of the goose down duvet warmed her up so quickly. At least that's what the label said it was, but who cared if it worked wonders.

With a short, resisting sigh, she hopped to the sash window and pushed it up, hoping that the bright and sharp sunrays would heat up the place a little. Feeling the warmth smoothing out the bumps on her skin, she inhaled blissfully and deeply, welcoming the fresh air. So fresh, unlike the smog choked poison in the city, here it was just full of wilderness, hay, oh yes, that's what it was, and…

_What the hell was that?_ Her nose wrinkled spontaneously at the unholy waft that descended so heavily and mercilessly on her senses. Was that…manure? She found herself frowning and was about to slam the window closed again in displeased protest when her eyes became fixated subconsciously on a certain spot down below. It must have been the lounge of the second half of the house, a half with someone living in it as there was a man sitting in an armchair with his back to her.

So it wasn't a ghost, she mused disappointedly, it was a man made of flesh and blood. At least she assumed he was a man, an old man by the looks of his relatively short, sleeked back hair white as snow. Women didn't wear that kind of a hair style, they would look like complete twats, but with the bizarre characters she encountered in town, who knew. In fact she just about recalled a few old women wearing a similar hair style? Her face instantly drew into a deep scowl, she would call the agency straight away for so kindly omitting this minor detail, that was if there was a phone in this prehistoric place, unchanged from the Victorian era it seemed, in the first place.

Her mood was somewhat uplifted however when she spotted the fire the man was so pointedly staring at. It reminded her to shudder from the freezing cold and she noted that at least she could hassle some matches from him if there were none in the house. Well at least if it was an old man he shouldn't be much trouble and by the way he was sitting there, unmoving…_shit, he wasn't dead was he?_

She jerked away from the window, panic rising in the form of a gasp that she covered up with her hand, remembering her own thoughts and the pile of unread mail at the gate. It wasn't the fear of finding a dead body however that had her on the edge, it was the prospect of the authorities crawling about the place which would mean she would have to move again and try to find somewhere else, for who knows how long.

Still she had to find out, before unpacking needlessly, yet there was still time to at least wash up and dress warmly, no need to rush over there half naked, all smelly and freezing. Only that was easier said than done due to the lack of anything warm in the house, that included warm water and it all boiled down to one tiny, missing ingredient, matches.

Grudgingly and unwashed, Vesta slipped on a thick gray sweater and dark jeans, and flung herself down the stairs, shooting a much improved pointed glare back at the painting as she turned the corner. Just a bit more practice and soon it would squirm under her rich brown scrutiny, she thought jokingly as the thick rubber soles of her boots squeaked to a stop at the polished threshold of the lounge downstairs.

The nut-brown chestnut flooring with its strong suggestion of green gave off a somewhat grave and subdued effect yet it woke to life in the sun lit room, showing an almost luminous sheen. It just occurred to her how clean and tidy it all seemed, not a single speck of dust, not a single stain or a faded surface, a pile of neatly chopped up wood stacked up by the fireplace, almost as if someone was expecting a new tenant at any moment. Or maybe not, for no matter how hard she looked there were no matches, and there was no phone either.

That instantly made her think of the man next door and another involuntary shiver visited her spine. She shrugged it away and left into the chill of the late autumn morning. She could swear her breath was freezing in the air right in front of her as she made her way to the other side of the house, her eyes drifting toward the thick mist creeping along the hauntingly still surface of the placid lake.

The icy, crunching ground was slowly melting under the brave attempts of the sun to warm up all that it touched but the solidly frozen soil was resisting its low, angled rays. Whoever was inside would have heard her coming, Vesta realised, giving the door a loud, steady knock with her cold knuckles. Unless of course they were deaf or dead, she sniggered grimly.

A minute passed, her arms folded, hands cold as ice huddled in the relative warmth of her woolly sweater, a sweater that thank god didn't learn how to glare. Must have been made from sheep from far, far away, where they didn't have the chance to learn the intricate art of a well aimed pointed stare.

With a grudging reluctance she pulled her hand out and knocked again. Grave silence followed. Desperation encroached on her better judgement and she found herself compelled to yell into the grimly shut door. After all it was a Sunday and she noted dryly that nothing was open in that ghastly town when she strolled through its uninviting streets yesterday, and this meant she would have to suffer the biting cold till tomorrow.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Still nothing moved. An image of a frozen corpse hovered in her mind, causing her to grimace.

"I know you are in there so you better come out or I will just stand here…and freeze, and you wouldn't want to be responsible, right?" Vesta called out hopefully, surely no one would like to have that kind of a trouble at their doorstep. Her feet might have been cold but shy she sure wasn't.

The dead stillness was playing on her nerves. It was time to up the game. This was going to wake the dead for sure, which is what it seemed was needed. And if he was indeed dead, well, at least she would know for sure, and then just run away.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make meeee happyyyyyyyy…" her lungs opened up and produced a series of terrible sounds in a complete disharmony of tones that were guaranteed to shake every single corpse, no matter what state it was in, out of their shallow grave in a five mile radius. Even the birds fled the vicinity announcing their distressed protests with alarmed shrieking. Sure enough, soon after soft, unhurried footsteps were heard in the hall beyond the sturdy oak door that appeared a bit chipped around the lock at a closer inspection.

The provoked movement brought a triumphant light to her eyes and she stood there with her hands clasped behind her back, rocking happily back and forth in merry anticipation.

The door was brutally swung inwards.

Vesta's head flounced painfully backwards jarring her neck, a reaction of her widening eyes falling upon the apparition revealed so suddenly before her. It resembled a man, questionably alive by his ghastly pale appearance and frosty, deep set eyes that were giving her a piercing, terrifying look, none that she ever had the misfortune to experience before. Its eyes were blessed with a colour she had never seen before either, it was unearthly, cold and wild, akin to a current spurting out violently from an ancient melting iceberg mixed with the churning gray of stormy water. The old man's hair, whiter than the freshest snow on a clear blue day, was in fact full and strong, without a single hint of recession, framing a face as smooth as polished steel.

Before she had a chance to recover from the unexpected sight and open her mouth to speak, the old man that wasn't old at all narrowed those frightening, fierce eyes at her in one final pointed glare and slammed the door shut with an exaggerated upward movement of his partially light brown leather-gloved hand.

Completely shocked, Vesta stood there gaping for a few moments, giving the morning frost covered bush to her left a bewildered sideways glance before fixing her undeterred eyes back on the firmly shut door. With a frown set deep into her forehead and a determined purse of her curved lips, she pounded the door relentlessly until there was a noncommittal click of the lock some minute later.

Did the jerk just lock it? How dare he after giving her whiplash. Vesta dropped her jaw at his rudeness, ready to unleash her 'singing' again. She was on a roll now, unable to give up and she hated rude, staring people, especially the stunningly good looking ones. They were the worst, the worst of them all. Was it a requirement for living in this area, to be able to glare so well? Even the sheep and the paintings did it, she mused. If so then he sure topped the cake.

Suddenly, her body went rigid when she saw the door glide open, painfully slowly. The man that stood yet again between them appeared a little less spectral this time, perhaps it was a trick of the shadows he was submerged in earlier as now his face was illuminated directly by the sun and received a slightly healthier sheen more in semblance to a living being. His expression however conveyed a clear annoyance and a haughty coldness as he stood there, silently observing her.

"Greetings," Vesta said cheerfully, extending her hand with a sunny smile and for a moment she didn't think he would respond at all. Then, with great stiffness, he cleared his throat and spoke in a manner that could only be described as politely hostile, or was it ill-polite?

"Please leave."

His voice was a deep, vibrating baritone, hoarse at the edges as if he hadn't spoken for a long while. No handshake followed. The door began to close and she panicked, chilled to the bones. Was it more from him or the cold, she couldn't tell.

"Wait! I just wanted to ask you for some matches," she reached out for the door with her hand. Her soft, light voice filled with genuine need made him stop and turn around.

His mirthless, barely blue eyes dropped down to her hand in unconcealed distaste and she promptly removed the said hand from the edge of the door. He then fixed her with an expressionless, scrutinizing stare that made her feel very small, with a feeling akin to an undeserving servant begging for forgiveness at the behest of a stringent master. His hands now folded behind his back, his imperial style clothing in complete harmony with his equally courtly features and posture, the condescending air that emanated from him, it all trapped her into a blank stare projected back at him, and she bit her lips absentmindedly.

"Matches?" he asked absently as if somewhat surprised, trailing the word into infinity, yet his sternly kept features remained unreadable. "I cannot help you." He said in a politely distant tone, holding a perfect old English accent. Yet again he turned, ready to close the door.

Blinking out of her brief reverie Vesta called out quickly and pressingly to the retreating figure in a black coat that shined like moonless midnight. "Oh wait just a minute, don't you have anything that might light a fire?"

Her urgent enquiry met with the frost coated oak wood of the closed door. Her jaw clenched in stark realisation. She would have to sit out the day in freezing cold, wash in water that could have flown in from an iceberg itself and eat the food that she brought with her cold too. With a frustrated and annoyed sigh she turned to leave when to her utmost surprise there was a subtle movement behind her.

A pale hand was stretched out through the narrow gap, holding something. Hesitating only briefly, Vesta reached out, watching with cautious curiosity as two onyx stones each the shape of a smooth pebble were dropped in the palm of her hand. Her curious expression turned into ironic disbelief as she stared at what he had given her, not even noticing the distinct click of the lock.

"Great, thanks! That's really helpful," she grumbled loudly so that he was sure to hear her.

"Step away from the door please," came a calm and phlegmatic response from behind the door.

"All right, I'm going already," she huffed irritably, turning away. "Jeez, no need to…" A sharp pop cut through her words and she spun around to see a glistening ten inch icicle impaled half way in the frozen ground where she stood only a second ago.

Great, just great, she thought, wondering just where exactly she made the wrong turn that lead her on a path of a cavewoman that nearly got clobbered by an icicle. It was strange but getting back inside seemed just the right thing to do.

The soft layers of her nut-brown hair swayed in the light breeze that came from the lake on her way back to her half of the house. Only now in full daylight did she notice the fractional difference, the entire east side appearing new as if completely reconstructed not so long ago to match closely the original west side. It seemed that the main entrance used to be in the middle, now filled with matching stone, only a shadow of an outline suggesting its former position.

She paused, admiring the exquisite detail and elegance of the Victorian country house before turning to gaze over the lake enveloped in a light haze, thinking about what had happened earlier.

What was wrong with her? It wasn't often she felt so intimidated, so belittled before, always the one to initiate the contact, unafraid to approach anyone, especially men, laughing at their lust filled faces and voices ridden with a stutter as soon as they tried to chat her up awkwardly.

But then there was the other kind, the kind with sweeping good looks and darn fully aware of it, the kind fuelled by perpetual arrogance and the insatiable view that the world revolved around them. She knew them all too well. They always managed to manipulate her into submission, by some powers unbecoming to the earth. It was the small fraction of the population she had the knack of bumping into and subsequently get smote by. They were the worst, the devils in disguise preying on women too weak to resist them, unable to find the strength to stand up to them…or to run away.

Too bad for them that she grew much wiser and wouldn't be so eager to fall for their charmless coolness and mysterious distance that sooner or later only turned into a cruel reality. Starting now, take it as you will, a new resolution of some sort, she wouldn't leave this place only because what seemed like a prime exemplar of that 'other kind' was living right here, in the form of a pale, flawless flesh only marred by those rigid lines of self-appointed superiority. Besides, it was a Sunday and there was nowhere else to go anyway, dammit…

Vesta stood at the edge of the gray water, about to see how well the sleek stones would bounce off the glass like surface with an unconcerned shrug of her small shoulders when a strange tingling in her palm stopped her. It was the same feeling that washed over her when she stopped at the gas station and in that strange town, only this time she knew exactly where it was coming from. It emanated from the stones. Frowning, she took them with her to the house, curiosity killed the cat but after all, she wasn't a cat.

Not quite believing what on earth she was doing, Vesta knelt by the majestic open fireplace with the two chocolate scented pebbles, black as that coat of his, in her hand. She took them in both hands and neared the piled up firewood that was sitting on top of a scrunched up old newspaper.

_Here goes nothing_, her eyes rolled in mock of her own foolishness as she rubbed the stones together. To her utter amazement a couple of bright red sparks, no - tiny flames, flew out with a sharp crackle, instantly lighting up the paper. _Well, what do you know? Hang on, were the flames grinning at me?_ A smile of utter disbelief and wonder slowly spread across her mouth as she stared at the growing fire. This never looked so easy in those survival programmes she used to watch so intently as a little girl…

Several hours later a curl of steam wafted from a mug of scalding tea that she clenched in her hands, the enjoyment of a hot bath still freshly in her mind as she sat on a comfortably firm antique sofa with her feet propped up on an elegant Victorian footstool in a pleasantly warmed up lounge. Life couldn't have been any better at that very moment, the only missing ingredient was a bar of dark and bitter chocolate. There were times she could kill for just one square of the heavenly temptation and now her senses were constantly agitated by its light scent lingering ever so teasingly in the air.

Come to think of it her taste buds were mercilessly stirred when _he_ opened the door. Her eyes strayed to the stones that she left next to the fireplace. Vesta shook her head as a light smile spread across her face. She really thought that he was playing a sick joke on her. Still the night would be bitterly cold and she would need more wood to keep the place warm. Vesta stood up, placing the teacup on the solid oak table that dominated the large room and looked out of the window to indeed confirm that the sun was well gone, swallowed up by the advancing shards of a fog that threatened to freeze anything in its ruthless path.

Or maybe not anything…she noted wonderingly as her sight fell upon a ghostly figure emerging from a patch of fog thicker than milk. It was the man next door, standing by the lake, stripped to the waist as if completely unaffected by the biting cold. How could he just stand there like that? Only he wasn't standing, he was moving with his eyes closed, dancing in the drift of the haze, slowly and gracefully, flexing and balancing his body in a way that completely entrapped her and she found herself gaping, endlessly.

His bare upper body was completely smooth, glistening in a thin layer of sweat that covered his pale, nearly luminescent skin with a light tinge of blue akin to the ghastly cloudiness of the surrounding mist. Muscle upon muscle was so intricately weaved into every single inch of him, each so perfectly defined, so lean it seemed he had to spend hour upon hour perfecting them, painstakingly forming his body into a form finer than that of the most masterfully chiselled sculptures.

Vesta gazed in a trance at the embodiment of male perfection, imagining running her fingers along his straight spine as she approached quietly from behind, soaking them in those pearls of sweat before letting her hungry tongue loose on that flawless, smooth skin covering those rippling, dancing steel-hard muscles…

_Stop it!_ _Have some dignity for god's sake!_ She quickly and sharply shook her head in self rebuke and ground her teeth to snap out of her ill-conceived daydream, sending a quick scouting glance around the room to make sure she was indeed alone. This was exactly what got her into trouble, damn it all to hell! Her unhealthy need for physical contact, the reasons for which she didn't want to admit were true. What did they know anyway, stupid psychologists! And damn the male species for being so obliging in provoking her 'perfectly natural' female needs.

She would show him for putting those exquisite goods on such a shameless display, for flaunting his prominent maleness so openly in the presence of a woman with issues, and how best to do that than go out there and perfectly, superiorly ignore him? That was it, she would just ignore him, easy. Besides, some wood needed to be cut in half. So why not add some male pride to it.

Armed with a small sharp axe she found in the corner closet, Vesta hauled out several large and round logs that were stacked up in a small shed near the house. She positioned herself by the lakeshore, in full view of his…closed eyes, wearing figure hugging jeans and a shamelessly short, fluffy gray sweater that would show her dizzyingly slim, tawny waistline every time she lifted her arms for the fatal blow.

Soon after, the sharp sounds of wood splitting accompanied by some vigorous, off key humming resounded through the stillness of the air, disturbing even the fog as it seemed to uplift from the immediate vicinity like a fleeting ghost. As soon as it cleared Vesta jerked her head to the side, clearly startled.

He stood right next to her, steam slowly rising from his glistening body as if he just came out of a hot shower. Not a single goose bump or a sign of a shiver on that ashen, iceberg tinged skin, but there was no heat either nor a sign of exertion, was it steam or dry ice coiling away from him?

It could have been either. She gulped, meeting with the blue eyes that were colder than the air around them yet blazed with acute agitation and a deep offence.

"This is the second time you have so rudely interrupted me in my meditation. I will not be so tolerant a third time," he said in a blood-chilling, deep and dark tone that contrasted so vividly with the paleness of his slightly heaving chest and the white as snow hair that hung loosely in his face, making him look younger than she thought him before. "You would be well advised not to open your mouth again for a purpose other than breathing," he added dryly before turning to leave.

Did he refer to her singing? Well, that was just so rude! "You want to talk about rudeness? If you didn't ignore me in the first place I wouldn't have to resort to singing…" she responded irritably, in utter amazement. Just who did he think he was? Oh yes, the other kind…

He span back sharply with a mocking, contemptible glint in his eyes. "Singing? You call that jarring concoction of painfully clashing tones singing? It would make the dead writhe in sheer agony," he derided, face rigid, no trace of a smile or even a smirk playing over those otherworldly features.

_Well that was the point, jerkass_. "And you call that shameless exhibition of naked flesh in the presence of a woman a meditation?" she snapped back, biting her tongue, adamant not to let his deceiving fine looks fool her. That was a past mistake she wouldn't repeat ever again.

His pale moonstones turned sharper and narrowed as he moved closer to her while smoothing his sweat dampened hair back with one deft movement of his hand, tiny droplets of dew dispersing into the air.

"I could spend precious time explaining to you the different forms of martial arts and the importance of meditation in preparing the mind and body which requires concentration and oddly enough to you, peace and quiet. But I have a feeling your obvious ignorance of such concepts would mean it would be a complete waste of my effort," he said tersely, cold contempt roiling in the depths of his blue eyes as they measured her.

_Yeah right, martial arts my ass_, she snorted inwardly_. Just because you look like Bruce Lee doesn't mean you can act like one._ "Well excuuuuse meee, but I didn't happen to see a sign that asked to keep quiet. And whatever you were doing there…," she gestured with her finger suggestively, doubtful smirk spread on her lip, "…sure didn't look anything like martial arts to me," she scoffed, politely refraining from a loud snort.

"You should be careful with your reckless assessment of one's actions. A simple misjudgement could prove to be detrimental to your wellbeing," he leaned closer to her, glaring down at her unblinkingly with the fumes of blue fire, yet his face remained perfectly stern, voice calm and nonthreatening.

"Well then perhaps you could show me something I cannot _misinterpret so easily_," she leaned closer to him, flashing her brows at him, determined to practice the glaring that was so obviously fashionable in this fascinating ditch of the world. Yet her body trembled slightly from his terrible closeness, that feeling of being small creeping back in together with something new, yet it was well too familiar to her…the shivers. Brown eyes focusing hard, trying not to stray down, to even glance briefly and take in the alluring detail and hardness of his muscles, and the way his steaming sweat dripped down teasingly over every bump and curve… _Oh god, give me strength, to resist this unholy temptation…_

In response he slowly drew himself up as if to leave which quirked up a satisfied and somewhat relieved smile on her cerise lips. _Perhaps he was all talk and no walk after all_, she thought, secretly congratulating herself on resisting the dark allure of an asshole in a perfect body. She never knew why she always exhibited such a weakness for this particular kind, knowing so well that their superiority complex was in fact, in the majority of cases, nothing but a shallow disguise for a complex of inferiority.

Her victory was very short lived however as only a split second later the axe was in her hand no longer as it was hurled at immense velocity through the air and her eyes grew wider when she watched the little tomahawk slice right through a very thick branch jetting out of an ancient and sickly disfigured oak tree about a hundred meters away from them. The colossal, gruesomely twisted dead branch fell off and crashed to the ground with the rumble of wood breaking and splintering.

"Perceptions can be deceiving. Just like the illusion of an old tree. Strong to the human eye yet weak underneath and ready to fall apart at any passing moment," his cold, toneless voice held a grim warning note.

_What the hell did that mean?_ "So you can throw, big deal," she observed disinterestedly, shrugging. Then she added thoughtfully, finger at her lips. "Are you saying although you look strong you are actually weak?" She couldn't help but dig her claws in, stifling the giggle that tried so hard to come out. She realised how much fun it was to fight back.

He felt himself stiffen, although his confident demeanour didn't once waver as if her attempts to undermine him bounced right off.

He fixed his seemingly unfazed gaze at her, then glanced down and in one swift, blurry movement cleaved the solid log in half with his bare hand, the perfectly split halves flew off in opposite directions. When he pulled up to his full height his hand was shaking and dripping with blood but he didn't as much as flinch or give any sign of pain, instead an annoyed grunt escaped from the depths of his throat.

"Your ignorance can cost me dearly. To harness the strength, I require silence," he hissed darkly. Then without another word he turned on his brown leather, steel capped heels and walked away, not once looking back, leaving her standing behind, stunned and agape.

Vergil entered the house in a fast pace and strode straight to the lounge, grabbing the half empty glass of cognac that was placed on the small coffee table next to his chair. He then rounded the corner and found himself in the downstairs bathroom, standing in front of an antique sink framed by a very broken mirror.

His breath was shallow, chest expanding with irregular rhythm as he stared fixedly in front of him. Through the myriad cracks his reflection appeared distorted, as if his face was made of thousands of little pieces, impossible to be placed together. Only the mirror could see what no one else could, his true reflection breaking apart when the image he wore on the outside appeared strong and impenetrable. And he preferred it that way.

He didn't know why her words struck so deep, why he let those feelings consume him again, let the pain take over after all his careful efforts to learn to sustain it, to learn to hide the weakness that shamed his very soul, his very existence. It was all her doing and she had no right to question him, to judge him.

Didn't they get it? He couldn't stand the company of another, he couldn't even look at his own reflection without feeling the merciless talons of time ripping away at his soul, piece by piece. No one should see him braking apart…

His bottom lip began to tremble, the built up rage threatening to erupt like a new born volcano. Furiously, he slammed his already bleeding fist into the shattered glass with a violent hiss of rage, watching the scarlet liquid stain his broken visage and slowly drift downwards like a crimson curtain announcing the very end of the show.

His gaze slipped downwards and he closed his eyes tight for a while, steadying his breathing. She would have to go or she would drive him insane. He needed to be alone so that he could concentrate all his efforts into accomplishing his ultimate goal, and for that he would need all the peace and quiet he could get. Only there was a small problem that he so carelessly brought upon himself.

A problem in the unholy shape of a woman, the worst natural irritant on this damned planet and a clear threat to upsetting the fragile balance of his already volatile mind, even more so than his incurably irksome little twin brother. It was a task in itself to keep Dante off his back even though it pained him deeply but it was a necessary evil.

Now he had a woman on his doorstep due to his own inexcusable ignorance. He had never revoked the contract with the agency after he first moved in. It was easy to forget as not a single human foot had ever come even near the house for what seemed like years. It served its usefulness to fetch some much needed money in the past but now he had no intention of sharing his life with anyone else and extra cash was of no essence for he was nearly self-sufficient, apart from the alcohol, but even that he could easily hassle out of those that didn't want to be killed.

In fact he was surprised anyone would want to live in this time forgotten place, devoid of all the luxuries and in most cases even the necessities of a modern life. Weren't the majority of humans supposed to be spoiled, fat, lazy bastards?

In brooding silence, he turned the tap on and held his badly injured hand under the cold stream of water, then poured the biting spirit over the exposed, deep wound. The severe stinging was diligently ignored with a rigid countenance, his hard, frozen eyes spontaneously snapped back to the shattered mirror that seemed to crack even more at the intensity of his frostbitten stare.

After all the annoying and untoward disruptions today one fact bleaker than his fate itself was becoming perfectly clear. Her presence would destroy him much sooner than would be desired, and he had to last as long as possible. And time was slipping from his fingers fast… One way or another, she had to go. Legally would have been his first choice but if he couldn't make her leave on her own accord…

After all, how could a desperate man, a proud man that was falling to his knees be sure of what he would do...

* * *

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	4. The calm of the lake

Happy New Year to you all!! Nice and gloomy chapter to end the year with…

**  
The calm of the lake  
**

The night came awfully early at this time of the year, shrouding the perpetual fog that so thoughtfully retreated to hang low over the bleak blackness of the lake, yet the milky haze glowed strangely in the faint veil of the lunar light coming from the full moon above. Stars fighting to show their resplendence contrasted so grimly with the scars carried by the moon, the dark craters and all the imperfections strangely visible to anyone who only dared to take a closer look.

Vergil sat in grave silence in his chair, the fire crackling brightly in front of him, the comforting glass of brown liquid resting faithfully by his side. Dark shadows danced across the dimly lit room, the restless flames pulling their strings like an evil puppeteer, whirring and jerking them about in a sickly waltz of horrid shapes that could have been spawned by hell itself.

His face was lit fully, taking on an eerie cast enhanced by a hint of a cruel smile in the form of an upward twitch of the left corner of his mouth and the devilish glee in his strangely lit azure eyes. The blade in his lap purred, receiving undivided attention from its master as it was being cleaned and polished meticulously and diligently.

Vergil was fully aware of the woman next door watching, with the help of the antique telescope in her bedroom, and he made sure she had a full view of his ominous weapon that he so expertly tended to. Time for her to see the true horrors of Monterey, and it had nothing to do with the daunting lack of electricity. She would not last much longer, of that he was certain.

"That's right, sharpen your weapon. You will need it to slay the evil she-monster that is threatening your impervious decorum, and morbid silence," Vesta rolled her eyes royally, pulling away from the lens of the telescope. She didn't know why she even bothered to see what he was doing, wasn't she supposed to be ignoring him? But the temptation was simply too strong, she didn't know if it was the idea of spying again like she used to that stirred her long 'put at the back of the file', happier than most memories or if she maybe thought he wasn't as superficial or suffering from an inferiority complex as the rest of 'the other kind'.

That thought first entered her mind after she spent a better part of ten minutes trying to wrench the hatchet out of another ancient tree, and nothing around here seemed younger than a hundred years, that was apart from him despite the white hair. Still that just made him very strong and nothing more. He was still an ass, a royal one at that. Still, did she become too hasty in her assessments? But even if she was right, when did she ever learn? Shouldn't she be leaving now?

A grievous sigh escaped her, there was only one cure for that kind of a mood, a hot bath. In a way it was kind of refreshing to have to boil the water on the stove and pour it into the antique, free standing bath, filled with a small amount of cold water from a local spring. It must have been private because it was just too fresh and free of all the preserving chemicals they used in the city.

Vesta prepared herself some warm dinner and then indulged in a very long hot soak, a true treat after that freezing morning and the encounter with the iceman himself! Completely lost in the world of hot steam and soapy bubbles softly caressing her pink flushed skin, she closed her eyes in pure bliss, head resting on the rim of the bath, and minutes turned to hours.

The soft sound of music flowed from a small, battery powered radio, accompanied by a low, perfectly in-tune humming that was escaping from her lips. The music then stopped, to her annoyance, replaced by the local news; a boom of butchers in town as the popularity of sausages was on the increase, shortage of vegetables as no one wanted to grow them, some people have gone missing, a terrible accident in a nearby gas station as the attendant had been found in a pool of his own blood, the ugly head with yellow teeth was there but no body, strong winds and heavy rain forecasted for tomorrow evening…

Was there no good news in this ridiculous corner of the world, Vesta pondered broodingly, wondering whether the deceased man was the one she met the day before which would add up by his description. It was the one that recommended her this madhouse place, maybe somebody else received the same 'brilliant' advice and later expressed their disappointment, she snickered evilly. Or they needed more meat for those sausages, who the hell knew. She reached out with her soapy hand and turned it off, remaining still at the sudden, clear sound of a branch braking outside.

The second time followed shortly, a much louder crack right under the window and it made her heart race. Slowly, carefully she pulled herself up and listened, stretching her body just far enough to be able to peek outside. It would have been pitch dark was it not for the bright cascade of moonlight streaming down through the clear black sky, the yellow moon shining like the sun of the night.

Her eyes flickered about warily, sweeping over the narrow path that encircled the house, her knuckles turning white from clutching the parapet. A dark figure emerged from the shadows. It was the man she met that morning, shrouded in a coat of midnight blue, his stride slow and uneven. Her eyes grew wide at his revealed visage as he turned towards the house. The lunar light cast an eerie gleam over his pallid face that was covered in blood on one side, a deep wound showing raw flesh glistened on his neck on the other side.

Vesta stilled, eyes narrowing at the brief shimmer of something he was hiding up till now, revealed only by the movement of his long coat when he stopped to open the door. It was long and narrow, scarlet dripped slowly from its tip. She gasped. It was the sword he was cleaning earlier, now soaked in blood, blood drawn from a living being… Was it the man at the gas station? It couldn't have been, they found his body yesterday, unless…

She quickly got out of the bath, nearly slipping on the smooth tiled floor, water dripping everywhere. Heart pounding wildly in her chest, she put on some clothes and raced to the bedroom to dive into her rucksack. Hands shaking, she pulled out her cell phone. The battery was dead. Cursing, she threw it back in the bag. Who would she call anyway? The police? She nearly burst out laughing. That's right, get your face splattered all over the news, that would keep you so well hidden and undisturbed. She shook her head, frowning.

It might have been nothing. No proof of anything. Innocent until proven guilty, right? But she should watch him…secretly…just in case.

Her head turned spontaneously to the window and her shaky hand took hold of the telescope. No harm in seeing what he was doing. Her chocolate brown eye looked through the lens.

He was sitting in his chair, drinking again, not a good sign for someone with a sharp blade and a permanently bad mood; a very bad prospect for those around him. The deep wound on his neck pulsated heavily, a small amount of blood flowing out with every beat yet he seemed to be ignoring it like it was a mere scratch. The sword was in his lap, being cleaned again with a cloth that he ran across its shimmering steel edge with his eyes closed, the rag was then tossed into the fire coming to life in front of him. Took some great skill not to get those fingers chopped off, either that or the sword wasn't real…Vesta mused.

Vergil opened his deeply set, moonstone eyes, looking sternly at the bloodied cloth that started to burn and turn slowly to charcoal black. His search turned fruitless again, to his bitter disappointment. With every failure it proved even harder to fight the destitution, the endless whispers, the insufferable weight of the crushing darkness that always followed.

The voices, the ever present dark voices, fabricated by the depths of his own faltering mind, whispering, shouting, telling him to give up his hopeless struggle, urging him to let go, laughing at his futile perseverance, his shattered will to go on, his pointless refusal to accept his inescapable fate.

_Hell will have you…_

He had to keep them away, keep them all away from him, even his brother, to fight this losing battle with no witnesses to bear, no one to fall victim to his uncontrollable rage driven by those maddening whispers, fuelled by desperation and hopelessness, no one would be safe anymore as the blinding madness bled into reality.

He now understood, he knew what it was like for his father, the burden he carried, the burden he had to take away with him. Why he left his family, left them all so vulnerable, so exposed to the threat of both worlds, unprotected, and unprepared… By doing this he protected them from a threat far greater than all the evil in this corrupted, prejudiced world and the inherent wrath of the underworld, he protected them from himself and from the unbearable curse of his heritage, the heritage of a demon.

_Dante must never know, he must never know what happened to our father, and what is to become of me… _

He could never let Dante see, allow him to understand, let him watch how he would crumble and disintegrate in front of his brother's eyes while destroying everything that he loved, that he sworn to protect. His brother was safe, by ignoring, loathing even the demon blood that flowed in his veins and Vergil would make sure it would stay that way, he would no longer encourage him to embrace it, a mistake Vergil himself had grown to regret.

Staring vacantly into mid-distance, he finally closed his eyes, an unstoppable tear cascading down in desolate realisation, at a memory that would never leave his tormented mind, a memory of that night he awoke his brother to his demonic heritage, on top of that ancient tower, the night he nearly destroyed his brother's life.

Yet there was still a hope, no matter how fragile and distant, and he would hold on to it until there was not a single breath left in his lungs, not a shard of energy left in his body, not a sign of sanity left in his mind…

Vesta pulled away from the spy-glass, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, relatively speaking as nothing seemed ordinary with this man anymore. All she could do in the meantime however was to keep quiet, relatively speaking, and make sure he didn't do something that would attract too much attention, for her sake.

She slept uneasily that night, the divine softness of the four poster bed felt less comforting as the night brought unwanted dreams upon her, dreams of her past rekindled by the strange events of that day, bringing back the memories that made her run away and hide in a place no one with a sound mind would stay even one minute not to mention consider it their home.

The morning passed her by tossing and turning, tangled up in the soft sheets, moaning quietly in the confines of her turbulent sleep. The sun rose and shone, warming up the frozen ground only to be swallowed up by the fog that so relentlessly claimed its dominance over this land. It wasn't till the early afternoon when she finally woke up, tired and drowsy.

Sleepy, knuckles wiping at her eyes, she opened the window in hope of the fresh air waking her up fully. It wasn't the fresh air however, as the stench of fresh manure yet again greeted her instead, it was the large white sign hammered into the ground that pulled her into full alertness, and into a mood of defiant retaliation.

The bloody cheek of that bastard! Enraged, she instantly marched to her suitcase, rummaging through its contents, quickly realising that she had actually no clean clothes left to put on. Resorting to an old dirty white t-shirt and worn out jeans that had more holes in them than an emmental cheese, she scooped up her most dirty clothes into a reed laundry basket and headed outside armed with a bar of soap and her vocal cords.

Passing the big and loud sign that read '_Keep Quiet!_**'** in large, thick black letters written in a style that reminded her of the old map Lea gave her at the agency, Vesta gave it a good glare and stuck out her tongue on the way to the lake. She sat down on the small wooden pier, setting the basket next to her and began to express her rebellion against the whimsical methods and demands of her mysterious neighbour, by singing, loudly and way out of key.

It was stupid, it was cold, no it was bloody freezing, but how else could she make it clear that he wasn't going to dictate how she lived her life? And quiet sure wasn't it. She loved her singing, the only way she knew to escape the loneliness that followed the escape from assholes like him.

The water appeared so clean despite its deceiving darkness from further away, its calm surface as smooth as a mirror, unruffled by the slight westward breeze, as if the ever present fog creeping protectively through the swaying reeds kept it from being disturbed.

She was about to dip the soap in to lather a piece of her clothing when a deep, icy voice interrupted her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." It was said as a warning, calm yet commanding.

_Damn, that was quick._ Vesta pondered how she got him out of the house so fast, the last badly dissonant notes of her song diminishing as she turned her head to face him. He stood there, his steel blue coat flapping in the light breeze, arms folded on his chest as if he'd been there for a while, face expressionless. There were no signs of blood or even a scratch left of his wound from last night, his neck as smooth and pale as alabaster. _Did he fake it?_

"But you are not me, are you!" she snapped, turning away from him, her small hand half way in the water.

"They don't like to be disturbed," he interjected in an unstrained tone. His finger shot out nonchalantly towards the sign that was thrust deeply into the frozen ground, the other side of it now facing her, the side she didn't see before, and it read in the same, old style letters: 'No singing!' Her jaw dropped in outrage, only inwardly as she just barely managed to abstain from letting it show.

"You mean _you_ don't like to be disturbed," she rolled her eyes sarcastically, not even looking at him.

"Correct. Only there are a lot worse things around here than me."

"You know, you really go to great lengths to scare me. Like with all that bleeding," the brunette waved her hand wryly near the same spot his deep cut had been the night before. "Really hilarious by the way," she finished, snorting. Her head turned and her eyes met with his.

There was neither amusement nor offence in those ice laced blues. Instead he simply shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He set off to leave.

Vesta shook her head, a small complacent smile etched on her lips as she started to lather the soap, crooning, oblivious to the dark shadow that slid across the water behind her, on the other side of the narrow mole.

Both hands submerged in the lake, the cold biting her reddening skin, she would endure this insanity to spite him instead of washing her clothes inside, in the warmth of the house. Like she was going to listen to his empty threats, even the blood wasn't real, how could he have healed so fast?

With a dark frown of determination she set to work, unaware of her vigorous splashing disturbing the calmness of the mirror like surface, or the off key tunes of her song stirring the remnants of a long lost past.

As more shadows converged underneath, the clear water churned and swirled, causing the small wooden pier to flap against its choppy surface, harder and faster, her small frame nearly losing balance as her knees began to slide from side to side. Yet she ignored it, mistaking her own overzealous movements to be the cause of the commotion until she felt something wet and cold creep up and wrap itself around her ankle.

Vesta jerked back tensely, nearly dropping the soap and a piece of her clothing into the water that began to darken all around her. Her eyes grew wide, panic rising painfully in her clutching guts. She grabbed the edge of the wooden raft a split second before her legs were yanked backwards and she fell on her stomach, her face smacking briefly into the water.

Pulling up she gasped for air, trying hard to see what was going on, water dripping from her face and eyes, her legs held tight, she glanced behind her yet there was nothing there. Only a semblance of a black shadow and the feeling of wetness, cold and chilling, creeping further up her legs, squeezing them together tighter and tighter.

She tried to lift herself up but there was no feeling in her legs, then the force tugged again and she slid fully across the narrow mole straight into the freezing lake. Hands flapping violently about, she managed to grab the piece of wood again, nails scraping across the rough surface as the invisible forces dragged her back under.

The fog thickened as if trying to hide the gruesome deed that was only witnessed by the swaying reeds, the flock of birds flapping their wings somewhere in the marshy shallows, and the man standing with his back to the whispers in the wind and to the violent splashing of the churning water.

A desperate scream carrying the plea for help ripped through the air, slicing through the milky thickness like a knife through butter. His face was unreadable, unmoving as he half turned his body in a tentative way to take in the view of the lake, ears attuned to the slightest change of sounds and pressure in the air.

The noises diminished, only the soft rustling of the tall, majestic reeds remained, their thick camouflaged bodies and brown heads bending like an army circling the lake with a never fulfilled intention to ambush and slay the monster within.

Then the wind stopped, submerging the marshland in bone chilling silence. Nothing moved, the surface of the dark lake once again a polished mirror reflecting the surrounding scenery with unmatched perfection. Even the birds taking refuge in the reeds didn't dare to make a sound.

Pale blue eyes slowly closed to enhance the stillness washing over the senses of the figure standing quietly on the sloping grass. The calmness of the lake, soothing the nerves, invoking a deep inhale of satisfaction as the eyes opened again.

Only there was no calmness and there was no satisfaction deep down within his soul, only dark shards, remnants of a man that once was. The shards of cruelty and unspoken terror that once depicted his past but he would not succumb to their influence, they should remain silent and buried in the past where they belonged.

The pulsing blue eyes sharpened into a darker hue, teeth grinding as he watched the black shadows dance on the lake's surface in a mocking celebration of their easy victory, a victory of an innocent soul stolen from the human world. A soul that was to be dragged through the fires of hell and they would only grow stronger for it.

They didn't deserve this. They should be starved of all nourishment, of all that would feed them, he should have killed them all a long time ago for stealing _her_ body. For making him search for her hours on end, at the muddy bottom of the lake, for making him tear away the tatters of her dirtied and bloodied clothes from their elusive, hell bound clutches in the depths of the impenetrable darkness. For forcing him to emerge, screaming and gasping for air in the middle of the night, empty handed apart from the tiny bundle of clothes so delicate it nearly disintegrated when he clutched it so tightly in his freezing hand.

Vergil tensed, feeling his body respond to his thoughts, his coat flying to the ground. He might have done things no mortal would have been able to sleep peacefully ever after again yet he was no murderer, and he was no coward. And this was a coward's way out. No one should die like this, his mother should have never died like this…

Kicking off his boots, he bound off his bare feet and with all the power of his steel solid muscles propelled himself forward, closing the distance to the lake in mere seconds. In one smooth movement, without a single hesitation he dived into the centre of the blackened stain that crawled over the surface like spilled crude oil. The shadows instantly swallowed him whole, leaving no signs of life behind.

Darkness followed, the pitch black tendrils wrapped themselves around his working muscles, yet he pushed forward relentlessly, deeper into the bowels of the pulsing mass formed from the dead and decaying bodies of the ranks from hell.

His eyes were stinging, straining against the growing blackness, searching frantically for any sign of her. His pace was slowing down, body pushing hard against the gripping claws of the putrid ooze that surrounded him from all sides and dragged him away from the paling face that came to view down below.

He saw her now, the look of surrender and utter terror etched into her delicately chiselled features, hair floating helplessly in the thick, murky water as if in suspended animation, the plea for help still lingering on her parted lips. Small bubbles escaped from her air starved lungs, her eyes blinked at the vision in front of her, an angel of death coming to claim her life or an angel coming to save her, but she didn't believe in angels…

With an unearthly roar ripping out from his throat in the form of massive pockets of air, Vergil pushed against the deadlock of the gruesome tentacles, succeeding in freeing his legs long enough to reach her with one massive stroke. He came to a halt in front of her, his gloved hands instantly ripping off the hellish substance that was gripping her entire body.

They started to protest, forming into misshapen claws and deformed faces of the damned souls that once inhabited the underworld. Their hollowed eyes swirled with glimpses of the hellish fires, their mouth opened to produce long, howling moans that signalled the pain and endless terror that was to be the fate of their victims.

Pushed to act with swelling urgency Vergil tore, ripped and pulled with all he had, as fast as he could, already feeling the pressure enfolding his own straining body, the hunger of the creature pulsing through the whirling water. As her eyes met with his in silent recognition, her whole body suddenly jerked into life and she started to fight, slowly slipping away from the remaining clutches of the deadly mass that nearly drowned her.

She looked deep into his fading eyes, her lungs expelling the last drop of air as he pushed her upwards with the last reserves of his strength before the sharp tug came and pulled him deep into the darkness. Her eyes widened, a silent scream crushed out of her empty lungs, she struggled to reach the surface all the while watching his expressionless face disappear into the depths of the deadly lake.

Vesta broke through the surface that was now clear and calm, bearing no evidence of the turbulent struggle deep below. She drew in air in one long, loud gasp, filling up her lungs that were begging for oxygen, instantly exhaling in the form of a terrifying scream. She needed to let it out, on the brink of crying which she swore to never let happen.

She reached out with her shaking hand and limply took hold of the edge of the pier, resting for just a moment, her breaths fast and shallow. Just for a moment she closed her burning eyes, the image of his beautiful face as pale as ice being slowly smothered by the horrid shadows flashed in front of her.

He saved her from whatever that damn thing was and now he would die because of her ignorance. And she didn't even know his name! Grinding her teeth in self rebuke she managed to drag her stiff body out of the water, and shaking like a leaf from the cold turned to the gray vastness, searching for any signs of him.

He was strong, wasn't he? He pulled her from the maddening hold of the lake monster with relative ease when she couldn't even move one muscle while encased in its crushing grip. But then he didn't seem to be even trying to free himself from it…why?

Desperately, impatiently, she watched, the tremors of her body growing in strength, she knew that hypothermia was taking hold of her body as her skin was turning blue. Teeth chattering, she blinked away the tears that threaten to push out of her reddened eyes.

It must have been a minute or maybe two, she didn't really know but there was still no sign of him, not even the slightest ripple breaking the glossy surface or a bubble of air escaping from the deep, dark expanse of water.

Panic rising, she found herself calling for help, quietly at first, a barely audible whisper that turned louder and louder, soon she was screaming at the deaf lake, at the reeds that were turning away from her, at the fog that was hastily retreating. No one wanted to here, there was no one there…

"Somebody! Please help!" she was yelling at the birds that took off into the air with a startled squeal.

"Help me! He is drowning… Please…somebody!" she called out desperately to the bull frogs that started to respond with their vigorous croaking, but they were not helping at all, only making her even more agitated, her heart was beating so fast it was like it would explode at any moment yet she didn't stop, her aching throat struggling to produce the deafening sounds her brain was so ceaselessly demanding.

"Heeeeeeelp!!!" with one last ear bursting scream that echoed with ghastly hollowness through the misty air she collapsed against the wooden platform, the tears finally broke out, soaking her drying eyes like a soothing balm yet they were painful and stinging, sliding like acid across her burning face. She was powerless, helpless, not even able to scream anymore…

He was drifting, almost weightless, descending ever so slowly to the cloudy bottom of the lake. It was so peaceful, so quiet, so cold, so dark. _Just lie down, for a moment, and let the darkness shroud your mind, don't fight it, just let go and be rid of this infernal indignity, be rid of this consuming madness…_

The voices in his head, those ever present voices, burrowing into the deepest crevices of his mind, so hard not to listen…

The restlessness, the anger and despair, the constant, nagging voices clouding his reason, was he even sane anymore? He could have killed that woman, he could have condemned an innocent soul, how many more to suffer before he got even an inch closer to finding the answer, to finding the only cure?

_Why not end it now?_

The tough tendrils squeezed harder, constricting his arms, tightening around his legs, crushing his chest, it was impossibly cold, his pupils were dilating, vessels bursting under the colossal pressure but the pain remained numb, it felt like a merciful release. His head went slack, eyes shutting down, a trickle of blood from his nose painting a swirling red cloud in the murky water.

_That's it, just let go, only a moment longer and it will be all over…and maybe you will see her again…in hell…_

Vergil caught the twist at the end, the mocking tone, just etched lightly into the last few words of the voices. See whom? Who the hell should he see? His mother? What a dirty, shameless lie!

His eyes snapped open, emblazed with a deep blue fire. "You are lying! You are fucking lying!! Why should I listen to you!" Vergil screamed into the liquid oblivion in an instant white-hot rage, voice braking, his muscles heaving out, at once tearing a few shadows of his freezing, ashen body.

"I will never see her in hell!" his voice was deadly and dark, sounding even darker and more sinister under the water, brimming with fierce revolt. "In case you have been misinformed I am blatantly familiar with every dirty corner of that wretched place!" he shouted out in anger, darkening blue eyes blazing with ferocious intensity as his struggles gained in fervour.

He managed to pull one arm free and embed his fist deep into the abhorrent mass that held him firmly in place, submerged deep down under water for over three minutes. His already stretched oxygen reserves would not last much longer and the beast was aware of it, using all its power and trickery to prevent its precious prey from escaping its deadly grasp.

His fist went straight through, the demonic monster must have seen his move just in time to morph that piece of stinking ooze into its dormant, liquid state, only to solidify again, effectively trapping his arm in an inescapable hold.

Vergil grunted in raging frustration and annoyance as he lost the use of one arm, his lungs were screaming for air and there was not a single face he could splatter with his remaining fist, there were hundreds. All gaping at him with their blank, ghastly stares, humming the lurid song of hell and eternal entrapment, the urge to smash them all back to an oily smear was overwhelming as his vision began to cloud over and fade.

A dark, hollow, sarcastic laughter resounded through the stirring mud that was dislodged from the bed of the lake by the erratic movements. It came from his mouth, his lungs releasing the last breath of oxygen that could no longer sustain his life. The laughter ceased, replaced by a deadly calm countenance. He pulled his arm to him, muscles flexing ferociously, snapping the warped tendrils that so tightly and painfully entwisted him.

"If you see my mother, do let me know. I'll be waiting." His face was as hard as a stone, voice cold, unfazed, emotionless. His lungs then screamed, devoid of a single molecule of air.

He took an aim and rammed his freed fist into the face that was the biggest and ugliest, yanking his arm to the side to tear out its blackened facial muscles clean off. It shrieked in infernal pain, only briefly as its solid state dissolved almost instantly upon the powerful, damaging impact that sent the hell spawned foe reeling straight back to its own dimension, the barren and parched plains of the underworld.

A self-satisfied twitch of his lips lingered behind as his body shook violently, protesting against the dirty water that flooded his contracting lungs. Darkness followed shortly, slowly draping over him like the lid of a coffin at his own funeral. This time the walls caved in completely, crushed him into the broken pieces that he could no longer hold together and this time, there was no way out as his body gave out the last spasm of life.

He was falling, but not into the cold, dark abyss of emptiness as he felt so often before…

…he was falling headlong into the brightly burning, white-hot bowls of hell. They won, they would have him now, and this time there would be no escape.

_As long as I never see her again, not her…_

…_not in there!_

* * *

_I respond to everyone personally, thank you all sincerely! For those without an account, damn, __**L.M.**__ – do you have one or an email address? I feel the need to send an epic response!! ;P But fear not as there will be more plot, and no chance will it be a simple romance!! Thank you for taking your time to review a humble story of mine!! :D And as you all wanted, we will see more Dante! (hmm, tried to make it rhyme..)_

_As most of you don't seem to have a domestically trained animal I thought of giving a Plan B of my 'How to review in 3 simple steps' instructions, here it is:_

_Step 1: remains the same – please refer to previous chapter_

_Step 2: position your keyboard under a leaking air-conditioning unit or other suitable leakage (but please beware of fire hazards!)_

_Step 3: wipe the keyboard vigorously, napkins preferred, sleeves acceptable, licking not recommended_

_All done! Thank you kindly!!_


	5. Stormy waters

**Stormy waters**

The shivers, they just wouldn't stop. It must have been several minutes now or was it hours, no just minutes as she only ceased screaming now. There was no energy left. What happened? The cold, it was so cold. She must have been in the water as all her clothes were wet, clinging to her freezing skin. Did she slip? Was there someone with her?

She couldn't remember, her shaking body felt so heavy as she dragged herself across the pier to the edge of the water, eyes staring at its deceiving calmness. The glass like surface, the scattered pieces of her clothes drifting, the darkness that pulled her down, rendering her utterly immobile. She remembered now. The face, amongst all the floating debris, disappearing into the depths below, into the wreathing mass of blackness…

Vesta gulped, wincing at the pain in her dry throat. Did she scream for that long? She had to get back in there and pull him out, how could she not do anything? The thunder came rumbling through the foggy air yet the wind didn't pick up, there were no sounds, not even the rustling of the tall reeds, only some very light and distant pounding, was it the rain? Didn't they say there would be a storm?

Her hand was running through the clear surface of the lake, it felt slightly warm as it touched her freezing skin, maybe it would be ok. Just to try, she had to try. Her head tilted down, arms strained to move the body, just a little closer.

She was nearly there, ready to slip under but something grabbed her waist, it was strong and felt hot, almost burning on her exposed skin, and it pulled her up. She wanted to protest, wanted to scream again but nothing was coming out. Was it the monster again? But it didn't feel cold and crushing, it felt warm and gentle.

"This is no time to go swimming, lady," a voice she thought was familiar washed over her like the warm tongues of a gentle summer breeze. It was all a bad dream and he was alive and… "I heard you screaming from a few miles away so I sped up, never one to pass on an opportunity to save a damsel in distress."

She turned, her slow smile lingering for a moment before it vanished completely. The man before her looked very much like him, only actually smiling and he seemed a lot younger despite the roughly kept stubble spread across his manly chin.

"Jeez, you are shaking like a shitting dog, what were you thinking, huh?" he turned her around so that she was facing him fully and looked her up and down uninhibitedly, completely unfazed by her wet shirt clinging to her naked skin.

"How the hell my big ass cock of a bro didn't hear you I will never even try to understand," he shook his head and started to pull a big red coat from his broad shoulders.

_Oh no, his brother! Of course the resemblance! The brother that is currently drowning in the deep lake… _

She turned her head to the gray expanse of water pointedly and made a few low noises.

"Aaahh shame you are all wet and blue, I would have taken you out some place fun," he smirked, eyes straying to her chest briefly before he wrapped his leather coat around her. "Now I have to get you inside to make you look human again and the sooner the better," he started to pull her off the mole by his coat, soon noticing that she wasn't moving.

She felt the strong need to slap him senseless but only managed to lift her tremulous hands to push against his chest, slowly shaking her head.

"What can't walk? You should have said," she found herself hoisted up into his arms in one fluid movement.

"N-no, no, d-don't…," she whispered almost inaudibly, teeth chattering, her hands going for his neck.

"Don't worry babe, Dante is my name and saving _fine_ ladies is my game," wide grin plastered on, Dante started to turn with the intention of carrying her back to the house, bluntly ignoring her attempts to strangle him.

Her hands slid down, fists pounding weakly into his hard form, soundless screams escaping her blue lips, she struggled feebly in those strong arms that carried her away from the calm water but her frozen muscles weren't responding.

She swallowed over and over in a quick succession, trying to moisten her throat. "…d-drowning!" It worked, she almost rejoiced. Her pale, shivering arm slipped from him to point back to the lake.

"Oh your clothes? You women really are like kittens, so attached to a long piece of yarn! Ahh I love kittens, they are so cute and cuddly," he sighed and winked at her. "Ok, I'll fish them out for you later babe," he finished off less joyfully when her intense, murderous glare nearly burned a hole in his smooth forehead, singeing the soft strands of his platinum hair. The local habits must have been rubbing off on her…

She started to boil, inwardly. How could this be a brother of something so deathly quiet? Maybe that was why the other one cherished his silence so much? Feeling a lot warmer inside from blooming anger and exasperation Vesta gave it all she had and shakily pulled herself up to his ear.

"Your b-brother…is drowning…r-right now," it came out as a low, raspy, angered wheeze and straight after she fell back down into his arms that held firm against the falling weight.

All the merriness instantly drained from his demeanour, leaving a ghastly pair of blues staring at her in a delayed realisation. At that very moment he resembled his brother a little more.

"What's your name?" He asked in all seriousness and she couldn't quite understand how he could do that hearing what she had just told him. Did he not hear? She could almost cry again or maybe bite him.

"V-Vesta," it was a shaky breath rather than a solid voice. "Why?"

"Lady, if this is some kind of a bad joke, I want to know whom to send the bill for cleaning my soiled underpants."

For an answer she blinked blankly, then shook her head decisively unable to determine how to actually respond to that. How could she joke about something like that? And was he joking?

"Do you live here?"

She nodded.

"Can you get back by yourself?"

Another firm nod, her two fingers crossed behind her back. After that Dante lowered her to the ground and turned, but she grabbed his arm.

"He…saved me…" she held his eyes hostage for a second.

It was his turn to nod and then like lightning he dove into the lake with one enormous leap. The glass like surface broke into dozens of perfectly round circles as the spray of water rose into the air and collapsed on itself again.

Vesta sat quietly on the grassy bank, huddling into the large coat that smelled of strawberries. It would have been wiser to go back inside and warm up properly, get out of the wet clothes but she just needed to know if they were both going to make it and besides, she still couldn't quite move. What if she just had condemned another man to death? Was he strong enough? That horrible thing down there that she failed to mention…

Did her stupid refusal to listen to anyone get people killed now? Didn't they warn her that her selfish desires were becoming dangerous? Could they be right? _If he dies, I will leave and seek treatment, I promise…_

It was dark, darker the further down he swam, his ears nearly popping from the rapid descend into the depths of the turbid oblivion. Dead branches and loose parts of plants attacked him with every stroke, long stalks of weeds and dead leaves entangling in his long fingers.

Shaking all the debris off Dante pushed forward, his focused eyes scouring the vast expanse of black void laid out before him. He felt a stab of pain in his chest as he searched the emptiness to no avail for there was no sign of his brother even though he could feel him, if only just barely. In fact ever since Vergil came back he could barely feel him even if standing right in front of him, and not knowing why really unnerved him. It was like he was a ghost, only an image that wasn't really there.

Almost ready to believe it was all a mistake, an imagining of a scared female mind, his eyes caught a glimpse of a much darker shadow in the cloudiness below and he instantly changed his direction with a powerful thrust of his shapely legs. Dante shot through the water like a rocket ready to launch into space, arriving in a split second in the heart of the blackness, devoid of anything visible to the eye.

Apart from the lonesome cloud of red rising like a smoke signal from a fire that had been long extinguished, the white hair floating lifelessly about like ashes scattering in the late autumn wind. Dante moved his arms against the flow and came to an abrupt stop.

At that very instant the thick black cloud started to stir, transforming into solid shapes, a random pattern at first, that quickly morphed onto slithering tentacles entwined with forming faces, each more terrifying than the one before. Clasping round his legs from the foot to the knee, and round his arms from the wrist to the elbow, the sickly tendrils tightened and stretched, preparing for execution, a torture so horrific it was feared the most even amongst all the blood thirsty and cruel tortures so relied upon in the violent times of the middle ages.

His eyes widened as he felt his joints pop as the shadows gave a short jerk as if testing the strength of his tendons and ligaments before proceeding with the full gruesome deed; to execute their unwilling prisoner by quartering, only substituting horses for the living dead harnessed in hell. What would come next however Dante gave no chance to let them find out.

"So you wanna play rough? Then let's play!" he hissed out, utterly not amused. His normally soft, relaxed features hardened into a rock of wrathful desire, voice deepening, changing.

If their uncanny and pitiless methods were not enough the image of his strung out, lifeless brother several meters in front of him provoked his mostly suppressed demonic genetics, evoking something far more terrible and dangerous than all the horrors this lake could have witnessed for over two thousand years. A descendant of the most feared demon that ever crossed the realms of both the human and the demon worlds, the high ranking Dark Night, ready to explode into his devil form.

Feeling the shockwaves of the pulsating energy travel through the foaming water, the unholy dead began to pull, wrapping more and more of their deformed tentacles around the half-devil, fearing the worst. His legs nearly popping out of their joints, Dante roared, causing enormous pockets of oxygen to shoot up through the bubbling inferno.

The water started to whirl and boil around him, the black ooze sizzling and dissolving as the ripples of his horrific transformation turned into pure demonic energy, disintegrating everything in its path within a radius of several meters.

A terrible howling and screeching took over the quiet plains of the water, the cries of the perishing souls of the dead ripping through the boiling currents, hundreds more in their place already reaching for Dante as the devastating effects of his drastic change began to dissipate.

In a movement that seemed faster than the speed of light he propelled himself towards Vergil and tore off his brother's solid steel bounds as if they were made from paper, catching the limp body in his scaly arms.

The dead flew towards them from all sides, the shapes of the hellish creature swelling, enveloping them like a shadow from an eclipse, in complete, impenetrable darkness. Dante kicked his legs wrapped in dark crimson scales in the swirling water, just as the feel of the monster grabbing them begun to travel up his spine. They were everywhere, desperate not to let their rare pray get away.

Tightening his grip on Vergil Dante reached behind him and whipped out Ivory, praying that his special design would deliver on its promise and shoot rapidly under water. All the while kicking feverishly, his legs slipping through the oily remains of the singed parts of the beast that were slowly rising to the surface, he aimed at the living dead that pursued them. Trigger pulled in expectation, the mechanism clicked empty.

"Not now! Damn you!!" He cursed to himself silently with growing desperation.

Dante frantically wiggled his finger but nothing was happening. He was too slow in the heavy water with the added weight of his brother, both arms busy and now the fuckers caught up with them, grabbing their legs again. His devil form was fading as the freezing cold was cooling him down too much, and he was turning human again. He realised that they were not moving up but instead they were being dragged back down, fast.

"Fuck the hell off you fucking fuckers!" he yelled in rage, stretching his armed arm out, Ivory kissing a sucker that wrapped itself in an iron grip around his ankle. Closing his eyes in concentration, lips muttering something unintelligible, he gave the trigger a light squeeze.

The fine music of a firing bullet filled the dingy water and caressed his ears. He would kiss his weapon later, now he would just keep firing like a mad dog with fleas, kicking his legs and gripping his brother till they were safe and sound and outta this shitty, fucked up mirage of a tranquil place. There went the idea to have a pleasant nude dip there in the summer to annoy his brother.

Bits of black tentacles and malformed faces exploded into repulsive sprays of oily droplets as Dante hammered them with the continuous barrage of bullets from Ivory, held so tightly in his strong grip he felt cramps creeping into his hand. The water turned lighter and lighter, the milky fog seeming like the brightest sun compared to the awful dinginess below as they finally broke the surface.

It seemed like a new born volcano had erupted in the depths of the lake, hurling out stream after stream of wild bubbles and various debris that burst out violently through the churning level of the lake. The water boiled and simmered, becoming dotted with oily blotches that began to sizzle and evaporate as soon as they came into contact with the chilly air.

Brown eyes snapped up, watching in awe as Dante crashed through the raging water with his brother in tow and giving no thought to the turmoil around him swam to the shore. Without stopping he lifted Vergil up and slid him onto the grass, quickly jumping out right after.

Falling to his knees Dante leaned over his ghastly pale, lifeless twin, and moved closer as if about to do something but then he stopped, shaking and hesitating. Water dripped everywhere as he rocked on his knees, wiping his face sloppily, then brushing a few soaking strands from Vergil's forehead.

"He is not breathing," he said in despair and turned to the girl that was crawling on her knees towards them, dragging behind a steel blue coat and black leather boots.

"Is his heart still beating?" Vesta prompted him, her eyes trying their best to give him reassurance and confidence she herself was so very lacking.

Without even checking he nodded. She only assumed that he had checked earlier.

"Then he just needs some fresh air," she told him jokily, pulling out a small smile.

Dante leaned down, after checking that his breath didn't smell of pizza or beer knowing Vergil's zero appreciation of either, and pinched his brother's nose.

Clasping his mouth firmly but gently around Vergil's, Dante couldn't help but remember how he so desperately tried to land a full on mouth kiss on him when they were kids, succeeding only in nearly fatal infuriation of his less than amused older brother. Dante knew very well at that time that it would drive Vergil nuts, his twin was never one for physical contact unless it involved using the sharp end of his beloved katana. Once Dante got so close, barely brushing Vergil's lips with his that he came within a hair's width of being fully decapitated.

How ironic that now when he had the chance, he felt no joy at all, no thrill at the reward that would never come. Those eyes would not storm in raging aversion that would be softly etched with a devious pleasure drawn from the just grounds for retaliation. Those eyes were firmly shut and Vergil couldn't fight back, so he better fix that dammit! And fast! Dante breathed into his brother's blue tinged mouth, watching the chest under him rise and fall again. The breaths of life kept coming into a body as limp as a rag doll with no lasting effects.

"Come on, Vergil!" Dante yelled impatiently in growing frustration and fear. He was shaking and it wasn't from being cold and soaking wet. "I am frigging kissing you here! Are you just gonna let me suck your face here!!" his fist came down, hitting Vergil's torso just above his heart, causing the body to jerk upwards, only to fall down again with no sign of life.

A tear rolled down a smooth pale cheek from large hazel brown eyes. Vesta reached out with her hand to pull Dante's quaking hand away. She shook her head. "Don't…"

"No, I won't give up!" he pushed her away roughly. "Damn you Vergil! Fight back or I will pull out some moves you have never seen or even heard off, and slobber all over you until even hell won't be able to burn it off!"

Dante bent down once more, gritting his teeth and slowly nipped Vergil's lower lip. As if on cue the body under him twitched and bucked violently, knocking Dante off as one knee connected roughly with his stubbly chin, sending him reeling backwards. Vergil's head dropped to the side and with a vicious cough a whole stream of the lake's water flew out complete with all the fine assorted accessories.

"Hey hey! That's more like it!" Dante called out zestfully, rubbing the painful bruise on his chin that started to disappear rapidly.

Vergil was breathing steadily although he seemed to have fallen unconscious again, leaving the side of his head on the ground but Dante could swear there was a hint of a miniscule smile of satisfaction on those blue shaded pale lips of his.

He smirked and shook his head, taking the blue coat from Vesta's hands and draping it across the soaking wet body. Dante secured his arms under his brother and hoisted him while standing up in one smooth movement, grabbing his twin's soft leather boots in the process. He then looked back at the girl that was still shivering on the ground.

"Now are you sure that _this time_ you can actually move? Cause I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to carry such a lovely piece of a woman if you couldn't," Dante gave her a shrewd wink and she responded with a relieved smile shortly followed by a 'go to hell' grimace.

Letting out a short laugh, Dante turned to carry his twin to the left wing of the mansion, tilting his head sideways as he paused. "Oh and that coat with whatever is underneath it right now better be dry by the time I come and pick it up," Dante added with a sly smile that elongated his lips and gave his face a brilliant shine.

"You can have the coat but whatever is underneath stays with me," a well executed wink accompanied her sarcastic tone. "Thank you," she mumbled as an afterthought.

"What for…"

"Oh, nothing," Vesta got up shakily and started to walk away. _For clearing my muddy conscience_ _I guess, and for dirtying my clean one_. She turned her head back sloppily after peeling her eyes from his backside. "Oh and forget about the clothes. I am no kitten; I don't yearn for a yarn," she smirked.

Dante shook his head and resumed his stride to Vergil's door. When he reached it, he brought up his knee to support his brother and pulled out a key from his back pocket. Whistling to himself he popped the key into the lock and giving the sides a habitual glance he slipped inside after opening the door. The key back in his pocket, Dante stepped into the lounge, pausing to roll his eyes, habitually.

"Bloody hell, Verge, how can you live in this prehistoric cave," Dante mumbled to himself, pondering if it was actually colder inside than it was outside. He put Vergil down on an antique sofa and pulled off his wet trousers and vest, covering his icy body with a blanket that was folded neatly over the armrest.

He then knelt down in front of the ornate, soot stained fireplace and took the demonic fire stones into his hands, smoothing his thumb over their shiny surface. That brought back some memories, how they used to fight as kids over the privilege to light the fire. Dante would run away with the two pebbles so that he could sneak back when Vergil wasn't looking and spark up the flames, forgetting that Vergil learned a trick with spontaneously lighting up his finger. Dante then told on him, complaining that he was cheating.

As a bitter smile broadened his face he crashed the fire stones together and watched the flames jump onto the paper, soon engulfing the logs that were neatly laid out there. It was surprising really how quickly the place warmed up, now only some beer and pizza was missing as Dante lounged in Vergil's comfy chair, watching his brother's chest rise and fall, slowly and peacefully, just the way it used to be.

Grinning almost audibly, he lifted his boots with his feet still squelching inside in wet socks on top of the low glass table and leaned back in the chair, tipping a glass of fine cognac down his throat. _Well maybe it's not such a bad cave after all…a cave with benefits… _Dante thought, licking his lips like a cat.

"Hey bro, you didn't tell me you had a pretty chick living next door? Really, I never thought you would let anyone sleep in our mother's bed, let alone a girl," Dante sniggered. "You seemed to keep it like a museum…" he paused, tipping the rest of the glass upside down to lick any lingering droplets from all of its sides including the bottom which required a special twist of his long and agile tongue.

"Man, this place just homes in too many freaking memories," he remained with his tongue in the glass, misting it as he spoke, "though I must say that some are quite amusing." He pulled his tongue out. "Like that time I skewered you with my sword, accidentally of course, and you stood there motionless for a while, I thought you were gonna kill me with that scary look of yours, but then you popped that rare half sideway smile and said, turning to mother: 'Look momma, no hands…," and you just lifted your hands up with a serious look on your face like you were gonna command a whole army and popped that humongous sword out just by squeezing your guts. Verge, dude, that was just so awesome," Dante lifted the empty glass in a salute to his sleeping brother.

Swirling the imaginary liquid in his glass, Dante leaned forward and put his feet down, his sparkle dwindling.

"Do you remember what we used to be like, what we used to dream about?" Dante bit his lower lip. "We only had each other as no one else would understand us, no one would. And now even I don't understand you. Where did it all get so derailed, V?" after a pause his voice was hesitant, accusing even. "Why didn't you change Vergil, in the water, you could have nailed that bitch of a bastard to kingdom come with rusty nails and your manly pride for a hammer," Dante couldn't help but sprinkle even his attempts at seriousness with a bit of extra sparkle. It was just his way to survive.

His tongue reached out to lap up the last drop from the very bottom of the glass.

"It…was too cold," came a raspy, annoyed voice from the sofa.

Dante halted, and as if his tongue was glued to the glass he didn't move, only slid his eyes to the side to look at Vergil. He wasn't quite convinced about what his brother had just said but knew very well that freezing temperatures didn't exactly help to start up the demonic engine or rev it up for very long. So he let it go, for now.

"Dude, those fish in there are turning real ugly, what have you been feeding them? I could use some of that stuff to spice up my missions," his voice from inside the glass sounded like he breathed in helium.

Vergil managed to roll his eyes. "Humans tend to bring out the best flavour in them, the ugliness is a harmless side effect," his voice was suddenly smooth and chillingly soft with a sharp twist at the end.

"Didn't seem that harmless to me," Dante remarked sourly once he pulled his tongue out, eliciting an irritated glare from Vergil. "Is that why you threw her in there? As fish food?"

"There was no need," Vergil's face was rigid, unreadable as he spoke in his habitual unrushed manner, turning his head to stare passively at the ceiling. "The fish are impartial to excessive noise, singing in particular. It makes them turn homicidal."

"Yeah dude, I noticed the sign, harsh! But then I am surprised you didn't understand each other better, I mean having quite a lot in common and all…" the younger twin cranked up a smirk but let it drop again, "…and they still tried to fry you for dinner," he snorted, subsequently shuddering vocally at the thought.

There was no reaction, no response.

"Come on, trying to get a woman in your pants by drowning, that's a first…" he tried a different tactic, an itchy subject he knew Vergil would have the need to scratch. And it worked. His twin gained some colour…and a bit of life, relatively speaking.

"I do not have any room in my tailored pants to accommodate a woman," Vergil said deadpan, his cold eyes never leaving the spot on the ceiling they happened to be fixated to.

"I really hope that was a joke," Dante leaned in and patted Vergil on his blanket covered shoulder compassionately. "Besides, you don't have your pants on now," he drew even closer, his lips near Vergil's cold red ear, "and you look like you could do with a bit of warming up." It was a teasing whisper as his tongue darted out, licking whatever happened to stand in its way.

Vergil retained his frozen cool as he rolled his head to the side, his face a millimetre from Dante's retreating tongue. "If you put it that way, I know just the right woman that can take care of that. She's called Brandy," his eyes slipped to the glass table that came into focus next to Dante's hot blooded face. "I see you have already been acquainted. How about pouring your dear brother a glass…"

"You ran out," Dante said as a matter of fact, pulling away instinctively. It was a bit difficult for him to predict Vergil's behaviour lately and he liked his face and all that was on it the way it was; intact, without any deep and long lasting lacerations.

Vergil fixed his hardened, blue fire infused blues on his five years younger looking mirror image.

"You drank it," it was a half question trailing off as a half assumption. He knew Dante possessed very little restraint when it came to all kinds of human pleasures especially those that induced a complete freedom of one's mind which didn't take long for Dante to achieve at all and although not knowing how long he had been unconscious for, from the amount of burned wood he could easily surmise it had been at least several hours. Though he couldn't quite remember how many bottles he had left, was it two or three…

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly provide much entertainment. And it's really no fun watching you sleep," Dante attempted a half chuckle, suspecting – no hoping, he probably reeked of that delusional remedy Vergil was so unhealthily fond of.

"Then why didn't you just leave," Vergil drawled out tiredly, without the smallest presence of the usual irritation or annoyance in his soft voice. In fact the way he said it seemed to Dante as if Vergil didn't really want him to leave. Well that would be a first, maybe he was indeed misreading him, like so many times more recently.

"What and miss the sleeping beauty waking up after the kiss from prince charming?" Dante grinned widely, pleased to note it had been the longest conversation they had without Vergil throwing him out or trying to kill him. Maybe he should try to kiss him more often again…

The look Vergil gave him at that very moment however shocked him, nearly causing his beating organ to jerk to a halt in his chest. It was the same look he had seen on him when Dante had asked him what happened to their mother. It was a completely stern, empty look but there was a strange flickering light behind those pale, cold eyes, a brief turmoil, a yearning need, a plead for a release, a war of emotions against reason, a deliberation, like he had something important to tell him, something Dante needed to know yet he could never find out.

Vergil had told him then, that he had found her body on the ground, whole and undamaged, completely untouched, and she was now sleeping peacefully in her grave that he had dug up behind the mansion. He had said that her death had been quick and painless. His entire face was shaking, every single nerve, something only Dante could have seen, before hardening again into that perfect sculpture carved out of ice.

Then the light from his eyes was gone once more, frozen and replaced by a veil of carefully guarded, impenetrable blankness and resolve, just like now. It had been the first time Dante could have sworn that his brother was on the brink of crying. Yet he never did, at least not on the outside, just like now.

His tormented eyes lingered on Dante's soft gaze before Vergil swallowed and reluctantly turned back to stare at the ceiling. "You do that again and I will buy you a first class ticket to hell," there was a small, unnerved twitch of his lips as he gave his twin a brief, warm side glance of reassurance, hoping it would be enough to fool his hopelessly naïve and optimistic baby of a brother.

He really should have been more careful in keeping the worst of his secrets locked deep inside him, the price he had to pay by keeping his twin away from him, to keep him safe. Dante's carefree nature…the grim truth would kill him. A slow blink and a draw of blood from the palms as he dug his sharp nails in under the blanket warming up his body, discarded the stinging he felt at the corners of his reddening eyes.

"I would expect nothing less," Dante breathed out in relief, perhaps he was just seeing things. Vergil was fine, making real progress, even cracking jokes no matter how lame they were. Just as well, since he had some pesky demons to kill. "Reminds me, I have some cargo hold tickets to hell for a bunch of demons making trouble in the human world," he smirked, and getting up, he touched Vergil's shoulder.

"You'll be fine? Need anything before I go?"

_Nothing you can do for me brother, nothing I would let you do. _"Only a promise you will never take up singing," Vergil said in his customary, detached and controlled voice. "It really makes my head hurt," he added with a bitter hint of a smile.

"Does heavy metal count?" Dante asked warily, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Vergil turned to him with a raised eyebrow, really high. It said it all. But then his face fell into a pensive frown. "How did you know, how did you find me, brother…"

"Oh yeah, that was the weirdest thing. I was on my way to kick some ass when a fucking tree just crashed out of nowhere down across the road and I had to divert nearer to your place. Then I heard that girl scream her lungs out, well you know my ears are tuned specifically for that kind of thing," Dante drew out a wide grin but Vergil remained un-amused.

"Right, I will let myself out," Dante's eyes gleamed as he pulled out the key from his back pocket and absently threw it into the air, catching it skilfully without looking.

"You had a key all this time…," Vergil lifted his head in amazement, only his strict self control and noble upbringing stopped him from gaping.

"Well you know, I like to make an entrance," Dante made a teasing bow, his legendary grin spread all over his brightly glowing face.

"Shame you don't like making an exit," Vergil growled, the empty glass found itself flying through the air in perfect aim for the middle of Dante's shamelessly grinning face. He dodged it by sidestepping into the bathroom, catching the glass in his hand effortlessly.

Dante held the glass briefly and then his eyes drifted to the beautifully curved antique sink. He ran a couple of fingers slowly over the cold ceramic surface, lifting his forefinger up to his nose, making sure he really didn't leave even a single drop behind. Vergil would know instantly and that wouldn't end well for Dante, not well at all.

Vergil's idea of a first class ticket to hell wasn't sitting in a luxurious leather chair while sipping champagne and nibbling on fresh strawberries, no , it was more being glued to the nose of the plane with a superglue, naked and without a splotch of sun protection. But didn't he see it wasn't helping him at all? That the alcohol was making him ill and depressed even more, at least he was convinced it did. So what else could he do? If he just asked, Vergil would simply find some crafty way to brush it aside and push him away…

Placing the empty glass on the floor, he used the key to let himself out and slip away quietly.

_The girl should be all dry now at least_, he thought with an ironic smirk as he liked quite the opposite, making his way across to the east wing. Dante thought it better not to kick her door in and knocked instead. Soon after soft, confident steps approached the door and they opened to reveal a vision.

Her hair, no longer soggy and clinging to her face but smooth and shiny as a chestnut freshly fallen from its magnificent tree, were hanging in thick trusses around her face that was carved with high cheekbones and flawless skin. She was dressed in a light, freely flowing dress that accentuated her petite, yet divinely curved frame. Her large long-lashed brown eyes, etched with a deep mystery and premature wisdom yet twinkling with childish mischief, were expressing a silent gratitude as she handed him his large, red leather coat, all dry and clean.

Dante found himself standing there, staring with watered mouth that he kept shut thoughtfully, and eventually taking his coat from her after clearing his throat.

"If he gives you any trouble or if you find it hard to sleep at night don't be shy and give me a call," Dante gave her his winning smile together with his business card and began to turn away.

"They forgot to imprint shyness into my genes! So beware, hombre, or you might just find your phone ringing one lonely night…," Vesta wiggled her brows at him as he paused to look back at her.

"I am counting my ass on it," the brief twinkle in his eyes transformed into a deeply embedded sadness. "If you are still around, would you keep an eye on him, and if he, you know, tries…anything…call me first, he's been under a lot of stress lately…"

"You can count your ass on it," she leaned against the door, folding her arms across her chest. Then he took off, with the coat draped over his shoulder.

She heard the thunder again and laughed bitterly. The forecast was right, the dark clouds were coming, already gathering on the horizon, the storm approaching. Only the worst was already over, she thought as the roar of Dante's motorbike filled the dampening air.

It was dark soon, the rain came soon after, lashing at everything that stood in its uncompromising path. Vesta lay in the short deep bath that stood on legs of a lion coated in gold. The hot water turned her skin to a shade of deep pink but she didn't care, not after spending so long in the freezing and dirty cold. The small radio was blasting out some tunes again that blended into the background but she didn't feel like humming this time.

It didn't even make her disappointed when the news came on, announcing one event after another that she couldn't care less about. Only the last one caught her attention, pulling her out of the soothing embrace of her bath and out of the numbness that took over her mind.

"The cleanly severed head of a woman was found in a dark alley last night, a woman identified as Lea Grinwald, an employee of the local real estate agency… The rest of the body is yet to be found…," a female voice announced.

Not knowing quite why, Vesta wrapped a towel around her slim body and almost absently tiptoed to the bedroom. The storm was raging all around the mansion when she looked out of the old sash window. A massive lightning struck right outside the front of the house with a roar of thunder a second later, and she froze in that instant, startled eyes peeled at a spot that was only a moment ago illuminated so brightly, then turned into a black void of nothingness.

Another immediate lightning cascaded down in an amazing pattern, tearing through the turbulent night with the power of a thousand neon lights all shining at the depiction of horror revealed in front of her.

"Oh my god…"

* * *

_So Dante is back, how did I do with the interaction? _

_Million thanks to anyone who reviewed!!! You help me to write more and therefore faster! ;o) _

_And the 'How to review in 3 easy steps' goes to those with laptops just in case you feel left out, muhaha:_

_Step1: Yeah I know boring but follow the usual, previous chapters have the details_

_Step2: Spread some tasty crumbs that are larger than the gaps between the keys over the keyboard _

_Step3: Take laptop outside, then step back and let the birds do the work (beware of areas with eagles or similar large birds as they may actually snatch the whole laptop, in this case it is advised to chain it to a tree first!) _

_And you are done! =)_


	6. The devil himself

**The devil himself **

The brewing storm transformed the night into an even darker, more sinister hue of pitch black edged with dark purple, lending it a frightening and menacing feel. The downpour of rain was strong and constant, coming down in continuous strings that glowed eerily every time a bolt of electricity flared up from within the stormy, evilly churning clouds.

The ground was soaked with muddy water, pools of brown forming quickly amongst the trampled tufts of grass, muffling the stamping of powerful feet, the restless feet of a majestic beast growing nervous from the tremulous roar of the thunder.

Its front legs rose high into the air and a loud, protesting sound escaped its foam covered mouth, head shaking violently to dislodge the water that settled deep in its thick, blacker than midnight mane. Muscles rippling with enormous power underneath that glossy skin black as obsidian, the blood horse balanced on its hind legs, its bareback rider holding on effortlessly, controlling the stalwart beast with one hand by lightly holding its reins in between two fingers.

The rider, face not revealed, wore a charcoal dark coat that draped over the stallion's back, legs covered in leather and no doubt in clusters of lean muscles as they held the large, raving beast as if it was a mere stuffed toy. By the hip, through the belt, a long and slender sword was thrust, its razor sharp blade resting in a polished black scabbard, a long white hilt appearing alight against the obsidian of the blood horse and the surrounds painted in impenetrable darkness.

What made the image complete to its true horror however was the massive lump of a dead animal, deprived of its head that had been sliced clean off, swung over the rider's shoulder, its long slim legs dangling lifelessly in the air, blood dripping from the severed neck in streams, mixing up with the rain into a cascade of pink that trailed down the hunter's back and continued its gruesome journey down the horse's powerful hindquarters.

Another monstrous neigh resounded through the stormy night followed by the rapid thud of mighty hooves and both the horse and its masked rider carrying the headless stag vanished behind the whitewashed stone walls of the ghostly mansion.

Vesta pulled away from the window with startled wide eyes, shaky hands clutching the towel feverishly. Water dripped down from her washed hair as she stood barefooted on the cold hardwood floor, shivering, replaying in her mind the terrible images of the headless beast. The head, and there was not a single doubt in her mind, being severed skilfully and with great ease by a weapon so sharp it could cut effortlessly through flesh, tendons and bone as if it was all as light and slippery as butter.

There was only one weapon capable of such a gruesome art, of such terrible torment, a weapon no longer used, no longer accepted by society for its indiscriminate destructive power, a weapon she had seen him polish and clean so lovingly. Their heads detached so precisely; was the first victim's head severed cleanly or ripped off, why couldn't she remember? Why didn't she listen to the radio more carefully?

Head spinning in a daze of speculation and confusion, heart about to explode into millions of bloody pieces, Vesta ran across the bedroom and dived into the soft sheets of the four poster bed in pursuance of comfort, wrapping the plush white pillow around her head tightly, yet it didn't suffocate or even lessen the voices in her freshly disturbed mind.

_Stop! Stop it already! You don't know that he did it, you don't know that it was him! _

She pulled her eyes shut tight and gritted her teeth, willing the thoughts to go away, willing herself to calm down and go to sleep. She would think about it in the morning, with a fresh mind, with no more horrors to taunt her, and decide what to do. Her heaving chest listened and slowed down, the threatening sobs threatened no more, she lay there sternly with sharp but steady breaths, mind going blank as calmness smoothed over her dishevelled nerves.

A dark, vibrating chuckle cut through the silence, complimenting the dull beat of the rain outside. A savage whisper followed, trailing off into the darkness viciously, slicing each and every nerve in half like a scalpel.

_You will follow them soon for I shall have what is rightfully mine_…

_What the hell?_ Vesta stilled under the pillow, frozen with fear. Her mind begged her to move, to see who was in the dusky room but her body refused to obey, muscles too stiff to respond. She waited, eyes flickering from side to side wildly, but no one touched her, no one whispered anymore, only the rain pattered against the roof and the windows in a regular rhythm.

Completely still, after unmoving for what seemed like eternity Vesta finally didn't feel the chills, didn't see the horrors and didn't hear the dark voices for she fell asleep and dreamt about the only dream she had, a life free from hell. Why did it have to follow her wherever she would go?

On the other side, the west side, the kitchen door swung open, soft leather riding boots silent on the polished chestnut floor as the scent of freshly cooked venison swept through the candlelit room. Vergil sat down at the roughened oak dining table, placing the solid silver plate in front of him, the carving knife and fork made of the same metal were left in his half gloved hands.

Solitude as his chosen company he ate in silence, subconsciously cutting the meat with masterful precision, each piece a perfect copy of the other, his mind occupied by a procession of rapidly processed thoughts, eyes set onto the steady flame of the burning candle set in front of him.

The meat, dripping with blood on the inside, was dissolving on his tongue, dry and peppery wine flushing the divine taste down his throat, Vergil let his eyes slip closed in bitter bliss at the sensations washing over his inner body. For a moment he allowed himself to forget how close he came to death but more importantly how close he came to confiding to his brother…

It should have never happened, not even the soul shattering loneliness and the crushing weight of a burden so immense it was dragging him deeper and deeper under water, even with every single minute of life an eternal struggle, nothing should have broken the inborn and self nurtured steel strength of his mind. Nothing should have come even close to breaching his impeccable self control and cold resolve, and let him come so close to feel the need to share his terrible secret, to offload its burning and strangling weight onto the weaker of the two. Dante… To think how it could have destroyed his brother's free and unaffected soul…

In a moment of self rebuke, Vergil slipped the sharp knife into his mouth with a piece of impaled meat and slowly, firmly pulled it out, the crimson dripping off wasn't that of the fallen stag anymore, it was his own. Reminder that this enjoyment should not be his for he allowed himself to give in to the weakness that plagued him with vicious relentlessness, weakness that destroyed the fibre of his body from the inside out, undermining the very foundations of his once unbreakable mind.

He had to make his mental barriers withstand the corroding force, long enough until they were lost forever, until it was too late and he couldn't fight it anymore. The girl, if it wasn't for the girl, he would have never had to jump into that lake, he would have never had to lose consciousness and then talk to Dante while in a moment of prolonged weakness and in a disorientated state of mind.

She had to go, first and foremost, and very soon, offering nothing that would reinforce his shattering defences. If today's horrific and nearly fatal events had little effect on her decision to depart, then tomorrow should prove helpful in the matter indeed. For it was a Tuesday which meant it was a cleaning day. Vergil twirled the sharp knife in his hand idly, stabbing the tip into the hard wood with absent minded violence. It went straight through, right up to the hilt. Pale moonstone eyes drifted to the side, stopping absently on the handle protruding out from the table.

It surprised him to be honest that her little misadventures didn't send her packing in haste already. And if she didn't see her sense after tomorrow, the question was would he be able to abide by his already wavering sense of honour and integrity or succumb in a moment when his cruel and indiscriminate tendencies took over?

He yanked the knife out, nearly lifting the heavy table with it, the blood from his cut tongue was wiped clean off, spilling into the tiny grooves he and Dante used to carve out to send each other messages. His eyes settled on the scratched surface, thumb sliding across to smooth out the blood, revealing a sloppy writing that belonged to his brother: 'Need a hug?' Dante always asked him that when he thought Vergil was in a particularly bad mood and would be easier to annoy. Vergil's response was since abraded away, after all it had been over twenty years. Yet he still remembered it as if it had been yesterday.

His expression hardened, morphing into rigidness that tried hard to push out the emotions stirring inside him, yet his shaky hand moved as if on its own accord to take hold of the knife to carve out a new response, one that could never be spoken and would never be answered: 'Need help'.

The morning came after a bitter night of bright flashes crackling across the dark sky and the rumble of thunder plundering the silence that was so needed for a good night sleep. Vergil never used to require much sleep but now even a single wakeful night took its toll on his ability to remain in control and be governed by rational thoughts.

There was only one thing to do when he felt like his mind was slipping again, to numb himself and send his mind into a different realm, a place free from the crushing and maddening pull that grew in strength every day. The alcohol played its part in this together with a state of complete calm, causing him to seek activities that allowed him to relax while mildly inebriated. Watching a crackling fire, meditating out by the lake in the drag of the milky fog, riding for hours across the vastness of the ample grounds until Vengeance couldn't take it anymore…

_Oh Dante, how naïve of you to cut off my only lifeline…no matter how long it would last. Did you not think I would know? That I would not know you could not possess the capacity to talk or even stand after consuming three bottles of the finest cognac… Did you not think I could simply obtain some more? _

Vergil jumped up and swung his leg over the broad build of his blood horse, giving Vengeance a few firm pats on its strong neck to assure the restlessly prancing half-wild beast that its load wasn't intending to harm it.

"Calm down my dear friend, you serve your master well. You keep him alive…," yes, it was time to replenish his depleted supply and ease his mind at the same time as his horse could be trusted to take him wherever he needed allowing him to enter into a state of meditation during the ride.

But not before he was sure the girl was well on her way to leave this place, his hidden Shangri-la that he so carelessly failed to keep a secret and protect, and it wasn't the first time…

Vergil closed his eyes at the stroke of ten as he could feel the time by the stir of the demonic aura in the mist shrouded air, and he waited for the expected sign, holding Vengeance tight as the blood of the stallion boiled from the promise of the mad run to come, its hooves digging impatiently into the muddy ground.

A small pleasurable curl of his upper lip over a sharp canine coincided with the loud tear of a female scream that echoed through the walls of the mansion.

With the satisfied cruel incline of a smile lingering on his lips, Vergil looked back at the east side window and shifted the reins ever so slightly, causing Vengeance to let out an excited grunt, muscles stretching violently as the beast sprang forward into an instant wild gallop, chunks of mud flying from the mighty hooves that could dispatch a demon to hell in a split second.

Vesta slept through the night like driftwood floating in a calm sea, the stress of the day gone by knocked her out cold and even the raging storm had not the strength to disturb her deep slumber. She turned in the folds of the sumptuous, silky sheets, the sudden discomfort in her stomach breaking her out of the comfortable drowsiness.

It was strong, very strong, just as she was feeling it when she met Dante. At the time she had mistaken it for attraction but how could it have been in her state of mind, when all she had thought of was Vergil drowning. Why was that feeling following her, haunting her all this time when she didn't know or understand its meaning!

The landing on the staircase creaked. She bolted upright clutching the sheets to her naked body. The towel had come untied during the night, leaving her exposed to whoever was creeping up, no, jogging up to her bedroom door, twisting the door knob, pushing it open, scraping across the threshold…

Vesta could just about hear what seemed like a heavy breathing through the loud pounding in her head, at first thinking it was her but soon realised that in fact she held her breath all this time. The breathing, the sickly wheezing, it was all coming from whatever entered the room, now shuffling clumsily across the wooden floor.

Taking in a shuddering intake of air, heart racing in the confines of her ribcage, she dared to lean forward, slowly inching to the edge of the bed, dragging the sheets with her. The intense, throbbing feeling in her stomach was nauseating, gripping her insides, pulling at them as if telling her to get away, to run as fast as she could. Only she never listened…

The thing was right underneath her, under the bed, sucking at something, making the bed shake and move ever so slightly across the floor. Quickly glancing around Vesta desperately searched for something to grab, anything heavy she could use to strike, but there was nothing, only the soft pillows and…a vase, on the night table.

She stretched as far as she could and quickly grabbed the vase, having to let go of the sheets, smashing it over the head that popped out from under the bed.

That was when she screamed. When she saw the creature an inch away from her, saw the face forever twisted in agony, a face without skin and with those bulging red eyes, surprise and pain brewing into a terrifying roar of a biblical beast that should not exist…

She screamed and fell backwards, feeling the sheets yanked away from her bare body just before succumbing to involuntary unconsciousness.

It was so quiet, the air smelled of wild flowers and something else pleasant, she couldn't quite tell. She lay in his strong arms, feeling safe and entwined in love, enveloped in the warmth of his naked skin, protected by those lean muscles. Dozing away in contentment, like she always did for the past seven months, but something felt different this time and it stabbed at her heart. She felt the air still, felt the foreign twitch of his arms as he threw her onto the bed face down, biceps flexing violently as he held her wrists down, straddling her so that she couldn't move.

"Don't make this difficult, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear coldly, then all she could hear was the sharp chink of metal and her whispering his name in terror as he pulled the knife out …

_Roman…_

Vesta jerked abruptly from the clutches of her nightmare, her whole body coated in a thin layer of cold perspiration, breaths fast and shallow. She glanced about warily, hands searching all over her body but there was no pain, no sign of any discomfort, there was no one in the room. The rain patted softly against the window panes, dark clouds casting a shade of gray on the objects in the room, a room that smelled of wild flowers, leather and dark chocolate. It calmed her down.

She was laying on the bed, a fresh clean sheet draped over her, the room shining with bright sparkles reflecting off all the surfaces that had been polished immaculately. She blinked away the stare of awe that settled in her eyes, getting out of bed slowly and carefully as if waking up to a dream.

Everything was clean, not a single speck of dust or dirt, clothes washed and folded, soft to the touch, not a single crease. As if in a trance she walked around, treading barefoot on the spotless floor, touching what her eyes couldn't believe.

_Who did this?_ Her brown eyes strayed to the dark windows of the west wing that hung shrouded in the ever-present fog. Did he do this while she slept unaware, naked in her bed? It all smelled of him…but he would never…must have been his maid. Still, he sure had some questions to answer about all that, and…she should thank him for saving her life. No need for two separate trips if she could help it, he still freaked her out.

Then a trip to town would be in order to refill her supplies, no matter how much she loathed the idea of going back there and getting glared at as if she was copulating with everything that moved in plain view. Maybe she should…to give them a reason. Besides she started to have a really nagging need to get hold of something warm and manly but seriously, in that town? Oh please!

After getting ready and throwing on a stylish woolly grey sweater and tight low-waist black trousers, Vesta ventured outside into the torrential rain that so viciously competed with the low hanging milk of the afternoon mist. Just as well she never deemed it necessary to bother applying any makeup as it would have been guaranteed to turn her face goth style within a few seconds. Not that it would be too out of place around here.

Rubbing her arms with her hands to combat the cold she ran across the narrow path after dropping her bag off in her car, taking a small detour to the shore of the lake to see if maybe some of her clothes had made it back to the waterside. But it was nearly impossible to see anything and so she swiftly moved back, jumping across a large puddle on the gravel path when something dark and large broke through the looming fog, heading straight for her like an enraged tornado.

In a split-second instinctive reaction she ducked down, watching with horror as two sets of massive, iron clad hooves passed above her head, raking through the thick strands of her hair that flew up as a result of her downward movement. Still crouching down in a moment of a brief shock Vesta held her stunned gaze to the same beast she saw the night before, the same rider sitting bareback on top of its broad, steaming form.

Her eyes slid from the impatient, dancing feet that pounded ferociously at the ground to the steady legs holding the mighty horse in a vice like grip, until they rested on a disturbed face and arctic eyes that portrayed deep annoyance and cold contempt.

She honestly didn't think he was pleased to see her.

"If you have a death wish I would be more than disposed to fulfil it," his voice was steel cold and razor sharp.

_I bet you would._ "Then why did you save me. In the lake," Vesta asked half in flippancy, half in curiosity, slowly getting up from the sodden ground, finding herself under the powerfully kicking front legs of the suddenly prancing animal. Its eyes were wide and wild as if it had just seen a lion ready to pounce on it.

"You didn't wish for death at that time, whilst now you seem so eager by stepping into my path. Hadn't I seen you in time my horse would have crushed you to dust. He does not take well to…strangers," his demeanour remained hostile despite the fact that he calmed the beast down with some mutually understandable and undetectable body language, causing the horse to stand nearly motionless.

"I didn't even see you or hear you until you were right on top of me!" Vesta protested in an agitated voice, still shaken from his sudden appearance and from the chill that began to claw at her skin. "You ride like the devil himself!"

That was when she froze for she never heard anything like it before. It was a dark, deeply vibrating sound that came somewhere from the depths of him, resonating within his body as his mouth was still closed and expression never wavering from its customary rigidness.

He was chuckling. Then he spoke, drawling darkly. "That is because I am the devil," with that his hand made a miniscule movement and the horse turned, walking slowly away through the rain, to the back of the mansion.

Rainwater dripping down her hair and eyelashes, Vesta blinked them away, sniffling, remembering she had some questions to ask despite the sinking feeling that he wouldn't be so forthcoming with the answers. And now she thought of more! Like why did he save her when he so obviously despised her presence here?

Determined not to let him get off so easily she followed, for the first time having the opportunity to see what was behind the west wing of the large and imposing house. Curiosity always won against the voice of the mind.

To the side, amongst a grouping of ancient, majestic oak trees with their bark peeled off to reveal nearly naked flesh stood fairly basic but very well maintained stables, large enough to house half a dozen horses.

The small structure was well protected amidst the heavy, lowly leaning trees that were like guardians against the bitter cold and all the other unwanted elements, the drying wind and the drenching rain. Shame they didn't protect the surroundings from the smells of the country that took to the bad habit of wafting right into her nose when she opened the window first thing in the morning.

There was a dim light fighting for life in the choke of the fog and she walked towards it, nose wrinkling. Vergil was in one of the spacious stalls, tending to the wet black stallion almost as lovingly as he tended to his katana. He never stopped but his posture and face stiffened when he felt her approach.

"Are you not afraid of the grand inquisition knocking on your door? They do kill for heresy you know," she said in a casual, slightly amused tone, leaning against the entrance door. Her derisive smile betrayed her frail opinion of his self proclaimed devilship.

"As long as they knock and refrain from singing, I will gladly invite them in," he moved onto the horse's legs, wiping them off with a heavy navy blue towel, using a few precise and well practiced movements. His wet hair hung down obscuring his face yet he never bent down with his back to her, always remaining facing her, and she wondered if it was intentional.

_And then slice their heads off?_ "You should be careful with your proclamations. Those folks in town don't seem particularly friendly," Vesta peeled herself off the door, walking inside the stables in hope of catching some signs of unease from him but there were none, not a single hesitation or an effect on what he was doing. If he was killing them, it didn't bother him in the slightest…she thought grimly while biting her lower lip, catching something white out of the corner of her eye.

"If I wanted your advice I would never ask for it," he said dryly, giving a light tap on the horse's foot and it shot upward obediently.

"That much is obvious," she mumbled under her breath, peeking into the next stall. To her amazement her eyes fell upon another horse, as white as snow and even more beautiful despite a horrid scar that ran across the entire length of its nose marring its otherwise flawless features. It was like a scratch on a brilliant diamond, completely out of place. Vesta stretched her hand out absently and touched the red, blistery furrow lightly with her fingers.

"What happened?" she glanced back at Vergil and watched him straighten up with a briefly blank, then a thoughtful, hesitant stare into a mid distance.

"Wild animals," it was said so tenderly she almost thought it came from someone else. There was an air of sadness and vulnerability about him at that very moment that it made her feel he wasn't like the others at all as they would never care for anyone or anything else apart from keeping their fake image intact, at any cost.

"What are their names, Vergil?" the question made him flinch and his icy mask slipped back into place instantly. He seemed displeased but not exactly surprised that she knew his name.

"Names only serve a specific purpose; to provide identity and a means of addressing someone worthy of a respect, or in the case of animals to provide a perception of attachment," he paused and raised his hand as if to smooth his palm over the shining blackness standing quietly in front of him but changed his mind. "A needless gesture," he said bitterly and exited the stall in haste, hand poised to smother the burning candle.

"Is that why you never asked for mine? I have to earn your respect first?" her tone was scornful and disbelieving, at least she hoped.

"It appears you are not as dumb as you look," Vergil reassured her with mocking glee in his eyes as he turned to her. "However I advise you not to waste your time trying," he added coldly, then his palm descended on the flickering flame and the stables descended into dimness.

She let her eyes roll. And there she thought she started to see some substance in him. "I was going to thank you but somehow I don't think you are the type to appreciate any type of gratitude."

"How unexpected, your perceptive observations are earning my respect already," Vergil said acerbically but there was a hidden surprise that she didn't pick up on. He grabbed the saddle bag that was lying on the ground and it chinked as he swung it over his shoulder, then made to leave the stables without paying further attention to the girl.

"Your respect will come handy in feeding the fish!" Vesta snapped back. "Look, I only came here to ask you to kindly explain how my side of the house managed to clean itself while I was asleep in bed," she asked accusingly, arms folded across her chest, watching him stop and then turn, slowly, while tilting his head.

There was a pause before he spoke. How could she have missed the six foot creature of hell prowling about her bedroom, did her scream not signify its presence? "Should the cleaning arrangements not meet with your approval, you are always welcome to leave," his eyes lit up with irritation and displeasure. Unbeknownst to him his belittlement of her only succeeded in fuelling her rebellious temperament and the will to overcome him.

_Oh you would so want that wouldn't you!_ "I simply ask that next time you kindly instruct your maid not to just let herself in at her will?" Vesta held her cool, determined not let those penetrating blues bemuse her senses. _Stand your ground dammit! _The ghost of a smile that crossed his lips however made her physically stumble backwards. It nearly, just nearly made him look charming, for a slice of a moment.

"I am afraid that would prove rather difficult to accomplish," his features were frozen, but his eyes, they were blazing with something only a madman could posses.

_Does he really think he could scare me that easily?_ "And why is that? Did she learn to stare more than you do? Cause I wouldn't mind asking for a few tips…"

For a second her thoughts strayed to the possibility that she might have gone a little too far, as his eyes narrowed into two shards of ice and his smirk hardened into something terrifying.

"Tell me, how can I ask someone not to enter when they have never left in the first place," his voice was dark, dangerously low and uncomfortably cryptic. It made her spine rattle.

"What do you mean?" she blurted out, suddenly painfully aware of the sounds around her or rather the complete lack thereof. The rain had stopped, shrivelled leaves were falling soundlessly to the water soaked ground.

Vergil took a slow, purposeful step closer to her, his eyes beaming with ruthless enjoyment boring into hers, and her fists clenched to stop her from retreating, or worse from shitting her pants.

"Did you at all wonder how vivid the painting in the hall looks, exuding such resplendence, as if it might well be alive?" Vergil spoke in a monotone yet frightfully unnerving manner, never breaking the pervading eye contact. "What did you think happened when you deemed it suitable to scream at the early hours…," he watched her eyes expand as he spoke.

Her palms felt wet as cold sweat broke out on her skin, disbelief and stark realisation painted on her face as she stood there motionless. It was all a dream, no, it was all a nightmare just like that haunting whisper the night before, wasn't it? And it was all his doing, all lies and cunning deception to try and scare her off. But now she remembered as all colour drenched from her chill reddened cheeks. That creature, its startling resemblance to the one from the painting…

"What are you getting at," she clenched her teeth forcefully, trying hard to drive off the building fear that clutched at her heart and lungs. It was only a dream, induced by her frightful reaction of the creature when she first laid her eyes on that dreadful painting and he must have heard her scream during her nightmare if she really did so in the first place.

Vesta armed herself with a dose of refreshed confidence drawn out from her own conclusion. "Your efforts to scare me off are laughable! You are not really suggesting that a hideous creature manifested only by someone's twisted imagination and savage mind serves as your house maid?" she made it a point to snort. "Paintings don't come alive and monsters don't exist!"

He didn't twitch a muscle. "If that is so, what do you think dragged you to the bottom of the lake to suck away your soul and slowly feed on the shell of your flesh until only the bloodied shards of your clothing remained? Pollution perhaps?" his eyes were aflame, a smooth sea of blue fire filled with pure ridicule and condemnation of her lightheaded rejections.

Her features drew into a bleak stiffness. The truth was this was something she could hardly argue with. There was simply no other explanation. Unless he was somehow involved too, manipulating the truth but then he nearly died himself trying to save her and it just confused the hell out of her. She had to get away from there, right now, escape his maddening mannerisms and eerie demeanour, and those unfeeling frost infused eyes. Even the creepy folk in town were fluffy, cuddly sheep compared to him, a starving wolf ready to devour its prey by any means necessary.

"I know you wanted me out of here as soon as I arrived, so I won't waste your time anymore," Vesta said grimly in a wavering voice, wiping her trembling hand in her trousers as she walked away from him.

"Clever decision," Vergil muttered in a haze of evil bliss that surrounded him like a private patch of fog, deceptive and perishable. He turned away, the corner of his eye catching a glimpse of her lithe form jumping into her four wheeled means of transport, and speeding off hastily across the crumbling path into the distance.

* * *

_Anyone else thinks Vergil looks awesome on a horse? Come ooon, tell me what you think? *eager eyes*_

_Ok, no review guide this time, your turn to show me how to do it!! And if you think of some cool ways to review I will include them in the next chapters and you get a big cookie… So go on, get the cogs moving… Mwahahaha_

_A gazillion thanks to all those who read and the universe to those who reviewed. You keep my stars shining!! :D_

_(L.M., hope you did get my epic response ;P)_


	7. The spirit falters last

**The spirit falters last**

The last shards of daylight flickered through the sparse pockets of naked space yet unclaimed by the vigorous undergrowth, descending in streams of pure brightness only to be swallowed by the dark and murky depths of the thick forest.

It seemed quiet and peaceful, the soft sounds of precipitation falling from the towering trees through the myriad branches, droplets splashing violently on top of the decaying and living leaves, the tender tapping of water on fallen wood encased in patches of bark and soft mossy carpets; all creating a harmony of a deceptive calm, a preamble to the chaos to come.

A panicked flap of wings resounded across the thickness of the trees as birds took off aimlessly to the sky, their hasty retreat warning all earthly creatures incapable of flight to seek shelter in the deepest corners of the cursed forest for something far too sinister and unstoppable with an unquenched thirst for blood was about to prowl through the descending night.

The fog, as thick and impenetrable as the ignorance of many, advanced like a ghost army, an envoy to the legions of the unholy dead that followed in a dragged, dully monotone pace behind.

Scattered amidst the prolonged shadows, taking stands in the blackest corners, the deformed monstrosities of hell laid in hiding, the plethora of muddled growth providing thousands of places to blend their ghastly skinless bodies into the background like well adapted chameleons.

As their low croaking subsided, a veil of deadly calm engulfed the ghastly, dark shadows of the misshapen trees, only the clouds of hot breaths condensing in the moisture soaked air betrayed their ominous presence. A branch broke and leaves rustled under a few restless, sharply clawed feet that shifted at the nearby sound of a hollow stomping on a grassy clearance laid out at the very edge of the set out deadly trap.

A beast blacker than a starless sky lifted its slender front legs high into the air, its nostrils flared, stirred by the incandescent smell of evil still bearing the suffocating fumes of hell that irritated its sensitive senses. Reins held tight, the bareback rider kept the unnerved blood horse facing the wide strip of darkness that loomed all around him like an endless horizon of the vastest sea.

Ice coloured eyes with just a trace of grey-blue pigment pierced fiercely through the impenetrable wall of shadows, drawing out any signs of life and imminent danger. Senses strained, attuned to the slightest movements and vibrations in the air, to the sounds that no untrained ear could ever hear, to the smells that took years of practise to distinguish as means to survive.

Vergil furrowed his brow in the face of what he perceived as a mere inconvenience, yet the numbers that he sensed were far more than he would have felt like to contend with, all hiding and waiting for him to make a move, and enter the forest through the only passage possible; a narrow, treacherous path that had not seen a hand of a man to cut the bending branches or invading shrubbery, to sweep the slippery leaves or roll away the fallen boulders for a time so long, no living soul could remember.

Yet Vengeance and he had made it across countless times, in daylight or night, able to recall every single twist and turn, every obstacle that needed to be evaded and it played into their favour. A fight was imminent and the anticipation hung low in the air, sending shivers down the spines of everything that could breathe in a mile radius.

The foes would not come any closer, to provide an easy fight in the clearing, the terrible, dark pull of the lake keeping the monsters at bay as joining with the shadows of the dead was a fate far more terrifying than spending eternity in hell. No, he would have to go to them, to attempt a daring run right through the ranks of hell to get to the other side, to meet with his only remaining informer. He could not afford to be late for this appointment for it was his biggest lead since his search had began.

Large round eyes bulging wide as the hot blooded animal grew impatient, ripping out tufts of grass with its mighty feet as it felt the massive rush of adrenalin fill its master's veins. Vergil's blue eyes narrowed, muscles hardened, long sculpted legs preparing to give the signal for the race against death.

One long breath misting in the air escaped the black, foaming mouth as the time stilled, skin feeling the signal that ripped through its tensing body like a burning flare at the same time as the roar of its master filled its straining ears. Rear legs bracing deep into the sodden ground, the beast sprung forward and in one giant leap plunged into the bowels of the awaiting monster.

The noise that followed was almost instant and deafening, the excitement of the hell spawn uncontainable as they smelled the heavy scent of their approaching prey, the most agile leaping from their hidden lairs in an insane frenzy, perfectly timed to collide with the force passing in a whirl of wind along the narrow, treacherous path.

The wolf-like monsters were in the air, coming from all the blackest corners, a sheer wall of them in their utmost ugliness, beady red eyes and salivating teeth, water spraying high in the air as they broke through the plant leaves and ferns heavily soaked after the earlier downpour.

A sliver of gleaming metal appeared in Vergil's hand a split second before he felt the first disgusting, hot breath lick his face. The blade dove hungrily into their thick hides, driving out the blood that rushed out of the severed veins and arteries. A geyser of crimson erupted, one after another, descending like a hellish rainfall with light tapping onto the leaves and heavy undergrowth, painting all that lay along the dark path in a thick layer of bright, sticky red.

The heavy sound of hooves thudding on the soft ground carried across the night's chilly air, in gruesome competition with the choir of wails that fell behind the relentlessly advancing thoroughbred and its dark rider. Four black feet flickered with flawless precision, steering madly along the serpentine path, leaping over obstacles with minimum clearance, moving in perfect harmony with the deadly sword dispatching all that threatened their crazed run efficiently and ruthlessly.

Deep in concentration, Vergil ducked his head, barely avoiding decapitation by a thick, mossy branch that hung low over the shadowed path. That one second cost him a gash across his left eye as crooked claws swiped at him just as he straightened up, the katana instantly flying to the side to send the now headless creature plummeting into a trunk of a tree, causing it to explode in a grisly payload of mashed up blood and flesh.

Vergil growled at the inconvenience of his impaired sight as one side of his vision disappeared under the veil of crimson. He felt the warm liquid drip down the side of his face, heating up his wind battered skin. The pain never entered his mind nor slowed down the insane pace that Vengeance maintained without a single protest or any sign of easing off despite the carpets of sweat devouring its hard working, powerful body.

The howling then thickened and somewhat shifted somewhere to the front. Vergil's one functioning eye narrowed to zoom in instinctively on a part of the path that curved sharply to the right. He could smell the demons all around him and even though one eye wasn't enough to penetrate the darkness to see what lay ahead, his unfailing instincts told him they were rushing straight into a trap. But it was too late.

Feeling the deft flick of the reins Vengeance jammed its front legs into the ground, skidding across the wet leaves and pine needles, eyes peering wildly at the shimmer of the blades that the beast's neck was heading for. With no time to think Vergil jerked the reins harshly to the side, steering the blood horse into a thick mossy tree and away from the gruesome trap that would slice its neck into confetti in a quarter of a second.

He held on up to now with his strong grip despite the immense pull of gravity but had to let go to avoid his leg being smashed to a bloody pulp between his horse and the trunk of the massive tree. The momentum threw him over the wall of protruding metal and he fell straight into the horde of the excitingly squealing demons on the other side, knocking a whole row of them like life size badly grimacing skittle pins.

He tumbled over body parts and weapons, feeling his ribs crack and skin slice open in several places, finally coming to a halt in a soft heap of damp leaves. Vergil instantly sprang to his feet with a grunt of pain as his ribs snapped back to place, his foreboding eyes sizing up the hell's minions grimly. Leaves stuck to his coat, hair in a messy curtain hanging into his face, he pushed them back quickly while tilting his head nonchalantly to avoid a close shave by a flying hatchet.

They all glared at him, some waving weapons in the air, some baring their grizzly-like teeth and claws, all howling but no one made a move. He could just see Vengeance recover from its smash into the tree, hoping the moss would have cushioned the impact enough. But he had to get to his horse quickly before too many demons gathered on the other side of the metal barrier as they could kill the animal even though Vengeance would kick quite a few of them to hell first. There was no time to waste, he had to get them moving, to attack him.

"What are you looking at!" he spat out together with the copper taste that gathered in his mouth inelegantly, levelling his eyes with the itching crowd. "Well…? Come and get it!" Vergil growled out darkly and with a raised sword beckoned them tauntingly with his half gloved finger.

They all attacked at once, pushing through to be the one to slaughter the dark prince as something they could smell in his blood told them they just might have a chance. A queue of demons pushed from behind hurled itself like a falling stack of dominoes at the man in black; he merely sidestepped and holding his katana horizontally off to the side in a firm grip, he felt the razor sharp blade slice their tough, skinless bodies in half, one by one.

Wild cries filled his ears and a river of blood rushed down to his hand, running under his sleeve. Vergil flicked the excess sticky coating off in disgust, his foot sending two demons that sneaked up from behind into a jotting out ragged branch of a nearby tree. The branch splintered as it ran through their necks, severing their spines, the creatures died impaled with gaping mouths, a pointed piece of wood sticking out and dripping with the scarlet liquid that their hearts were still pumping out.

He smirked at the fretful hive's need to get more organised, quite likely feeling their prey wasn't as easy to overcome, as they began to slowly encircle him. The katana held lightly in both hands above his shoulders, blade slightly pulled out, Vergil surveyed the closing circle in the blade's reflection with his healthy, eagle sharp eye. His mind reeling, calculating their moves based on their stances and types of wielded weapons, he planned his own dance steps well ahead like an experienced choreographer.

Silence dropped on the forest suddenly as if all sound was chopped off with a large butcher knife. Vergil panned his blue eye to the only commotion in a nearby distance. The stallion was growing nervous, being slowly surrounded by the starved, wolf-like creatures. Its twitchy hind legs suddenly kicked backwards, mighty hooves embedding in the torsos of two demons, instantly crushing their lungs to a bloody pulp. In flight they gasped for air that was never coming and reeled dead to the ground, five meters behind the bucking horse.

Vergil's smirk grew as he felt them enraged, miffed by the power of the seemingly harmless animal that only served to carry its master. They all produced an aggressive howl that drove them to an attack. In an instant response Vergil's body kicked into action, executing his planned moves with minor improvisations as the demons were not as predictable as he had hoped.

In the chaos that ensued, Vergil leaned backwards impossibly far, the swords aimed at his head cutting through empty air, he grabbed them and tugged sharply, hurling them still attached to their owners straight into the oncoming foes on the other side of the tightening circle. Dodging another group of descending weapons in an elegant spin, he landed a brutal kick into the handles of several axes, already turning, not interested to watch the spectacle of their jaws and skulls being split in half, the scenery behind being bathed in a sea of red before their bodies slid lifelessly to the ground.

Using their brief distraction and freed up space to his advantage Vergil smashed the sheathed katana into the temple of a remaining demon that got too close, instantly breaking its neck with a sickening snap, and brought up his knee to knock a weapon out of the claws of another and as it turned in the air kicked it into the demon's gaping mouth. He then unsheathed his blade in one smooth deliberate move, severing a neck from a head on the way out, instantly blending the sword into a series of blindingly fast combinations, flawlessly changing grip to plough through the horde in a vicious killing spree with deadly precision and timeless grace worthy of a warrior from a long lost past.

Breathing heavily he stood amidst the carnage of sliced up body parts and blood coated leaves, his blind side and the start of a rainfall pattering the ground hiding the disturbing scene that made the night shiver behind the makeshift metal wall.

Vergil felt a light tap on his shoulder and in a flash spun round, katana half drawn. There was no presence anywhere but turning his body made him see the claws about to sink into the obsidian of his horse, jaws armed with yellow two inch canines about to tear flesh from the nearly exhausted, bravely raving beast.

His guts shrivelled into the tightest knot as immeasurable rage surged through his body. Blue eyes shooting a scorching glare at the gutless bastard, the slender katana instantly in his hand, hurled into the dampening air, tiny beads of rainwater descending on the ringing blade that a second later swiped the demon off Vengeance, impaling the vile creature firmly to the ground by its punctured brain, white liquid flowing freely to seep under the scattered dead leaves.

Snarling in steaming fury, Vergil took a step forward, brushing against the rough bark of a withering old tree that crumpled at his touch when an ominous feeling of rising demonic aura sailed through his senses, causing him to stop in his tracks and sweep the area with his slowly recovering sight. Only his vision briefly blurred again, and he felt a sharp prick, a small pressure on his back as a delicate feeling of warmth and chill washed over him in unison. The feeling then turned into scorching lava that flooded his chest, rendering him rooted to the soaking ground as his nerves were torn apart, vessels burst open to soak his flesh with blood as his insides were being sliced through by a sharp and pointed object.

Teeth grinding in exuberant pain and chilling frustration at his lapse in control, Vergil reached behind his back to grab the blade that was pushed through his already fractured rib cage and slowly, forcefully pulled it out. Still holding the flat of the cold metal in his half-gloved hand he turned deliberately, murderous look piercing through the abomination that was almost casually stepping out of the deep, dark hollow of the old tree.

The demon stiffened, eyeing its straining hand and bulging strands of muscle, vainly trying to keep the sword from ascending in an arc to its chest.

"Striking from behind…a coward's way. I despise cowards! They always give me a bad chest pain!" Vergil hissed in a blood-chilling, nerve cutting voice, flicking his tongue. "Would you like to find out how I tend to cure that perfidious disease…," the tip of the blade was starting to carve a neat pattern around the demon's heavily beating heart but Vergil paused, and cut a sharp glance behind him.

There were dozens of demons crawling out of the woodwork, literally, clawed hands and wolf shaped faces emerging from the oldest, most misshapen trees and from the mossy trunks fallen on the ground, more approaching from the distance which could be surmised by their excessively aggressive, synchronised howling. He hadn't the time nor the will to fight them all, not while his torn organs and veins took their time to repair themselves and Vengeance would not last another round. He had to get out of there now.

With a displeased grunt Vergil dropped the sword and grabbed the demon's head, twisting it sharply to the side to break its neck. They came here to kill him, that much was obvious, perhaps for stirring too much attention by his indiscriminate and brutal methods he engaged during his relentless search. Bad news travelled fast through hell and the human world alike…

Hand pressed tight to his chest, he scraped through the undergrowth in a fast but lame pace, and sorely threw his leg over Vengeance. Leaning low, Vergil steered the horse to the impaled demon and yanked his sword out, then lead them both with care around the deadly obstacle.

He nudged the stallion to give out one more short gallop out of the forest, hanging low and grinding his teeth with every agonising movement that caused his blood to rush out and wash over the smooth black skin heaving underneath him. Vergil stole a glance at his bloodied and rain soaked visage and for a while closed his eyes with a deep exasperated sigh.

_Splendid, just…fucking splendid! What a suitable state to be in to meet with an acutely paranoid informant… Perhaps wearing black will conceal the worst of it…_

* * *

_Is he checking me out? He is sooo checking me out!_ Sipping her third gimlet in a dingy corner of an Irish wannabe bar that seemed to serve more orange juice to a population of over fifty's than any kinds of anything even marginally alcoholic put together, Vesta couldn't believe that there was actually someone that looked almost sophisticated and delightfully yummy.

And he was looking at her, no, eyeing her, quite possibly thinking the same, disbelieving his luck in finding a kind similar to his species, in a place full of raving mad aliens.

She shot him an acknowledging smile, a sexy smile that she knew was a winner. But apparently there was no need as he just flicked his fingers to get a second drink and then set off in her direction, skilfully weaving his way through the myriad dark and woodworm eaten beams.

Vesta instantly perked up at the possibility of this leading to a fix which she so desperately needed. Both her body and mind were itching for a loving touch, for warm fingers roaming over her tingling hot skin to quench her throbbing desire, even if for just a few hours. In fact a few hours was just what she wanted, no attachments, no feelings, no phone calls and no entrapment afterwards, only pure, unadulterated sex, all on her terms.

And then she could feel human again, take her shopping and haul it all back to her new home; and never ever talk to _him_ again. Did he think she would just leave and give up that easily? And the monsters? Yeah right, she had one for a doll at the orphanage for god's sake, they were her best friends! In fact, she was going to apologise sincerely to the painting in the hall for hitting it on its head first thing when she gets back! _There_, she smirked involuntarily, lifting her heavily lashed eyes languidly to land them on similarly smirking, perfectly sculpted lips.

He had the most amazing hair, thick strands of light gold hanging loosely on both sides of his face, nearly hiding a set of deep blue eyes that peered intensely but unobtrusively into hers. Quite an art. Yet their bright colour was lacking something, humanity almost.

Her hand was lifted to those kissable lips. "Charmed," he purred, voice deep and velvety smooth. _Oh, charming indeed, _Vesta's tension melted instantly into a pleasurable jitter of possible outcomes.

"You are not quite of this world," came out of his narrow lips quite self-assured.

"Not this enchanting part of it, thank goodness," she admitted willingly, adding a sarcastic smile.

"Goodness…has nothing to do with it," his eyes flashed with a mischievous mirth and something else she couldn't quite decipher. He handed her another gimlet together with a seductive smile lined with two perfect rows of the whitest teeth. She started to drink both, the latter mentally.

Vesta shot him her best sexy smile back, about to ask what he meant but her attention was stolen by a distorted shadow that passed outside the uneven, frosted glass windows. It moved fast, closing in on the old style, cramped in entrance like a gliding, bowed down ghost and she found herself holding her breath.

The sharp stench of blood flooded the dimly lit bar, leaving behind just a trace of bitter chocolate that floated on a gust of cold air as the small double door flung open. A wave of goose bumps flashed across her skin as her eyes fell upon the man that strode over the dark wood floor towards the toilets, paying no heed to the patrons of the bar.

He was bent down, eyes half lidded, hair matted and swept to his face, one hand tightly pressed to his chest, the other clutching that accursed Japanese sword, its white hilt not quite white anymore.

_Vergil…_ The brunette slid off the bar stool, shaky hands plunging into her little backpack to find her mobile that she charged up in her car. She quickly turned to the man that left her stomach in an aching mess. "I…I have to make a phone call," Vesta blurted out rashly, then added forcing on a completely different, confidently provocative tone. "Hold your thoughts whatever they are for when I return they may just come true…," her fingers stretched to his shapely chin, curling away in retreat just before they touched.

Vesta cursed, walking off to an obscured corner of the Irish bar where her distracted fingers punched in the numbers for Dante. With every ring that went unanswered trepidation took a firmer hold on her nerves. That wasn't meant for her benefit; Vergil wouldn't have known that she was there. No, it had to be real. Just in case, for a need of emergency, she saved Dante's number as a voice recognised entry.

Folding her mobile absently, legs shifted unsurely to cross the wet trail that Vergil left behind. Her eyes dipped down, straying to a few darker spots standing out on the wooden floor. It looked like blood. He smelled like blood when he came in. To prove to her refusing mind what was already a bleak reality, Vesta bent down casually and dipped her finger in the darkly substance.

It was sticky and stringy as it smudged between her fingers, the smell was unmistakable. Her confused eyes swayed to the bathroom door where they remained for a while before stealing a side glance to the blue lit bar. A wistful scowl formed on her forehead at the grimly empty seat that held that alluring stranger only a minute ago. How did he disappear so quickly when she could swear she never saw him leave?

The seconds that passed then on filled her mind with angered determination to unravel the mystery that put her on sharp edges ever since she laid her eyes on that white-haired man. And now he took away her chance at letting her frustrations disappear in a haze of steamy passion, not to mention the fact that he quite likely killed again and this time his victim seemed to put up a lot more fight than his last dinner.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of the bathroom door opening and she quickly ducked behind one of the numerous wooden beams, heart racing in a frenzy of someone fearing untimely discovery. The thudding in her chest turned so loud as he passed a mere meter away from her, she was convinced that he would hear it.

But Vergil's straight back soon moved away from her, and without a single pause or suspicion he approached a quiet corner and sat at a table for two, facing the door. His snowy strands were slicked back, still wet but clean, the handle of his sword a pristine white, his hand that was clamped to his chest now laid loosely on the table, fingers tapping on the surface almost impatiently. He gave off the impression of someone waiting anxiously, not even bothering to order a drink.

Pulse slowing down, Vesta shifted her leg behind the rustic pillar and started to saunter backwards, sinking into a corner submerged in shadows yet with a full view of the door and Vergil's table. It was nearly ten o'clock as announced by the short, lazy strokes of the grandfather clock that until now slept quietly on the other side of the bar.

At the last stroke Vergil tensed, his fingers ceasing their erratic dance, blood shot eyes peeled intensely at the time marred door. Nothing moved, nothing existed at that very moment, seconds ticking excruciatingly slowly in his head like a painfully throbbing headache.

A slow blink of his eyes banished the anxiousness devouring his insides when the door began to open, revealing a man of an average build wrapped up tightly in a dark gray coat and a matching scarf. His jittery eyes flickered across the dimly lit bar, finally stopping on the silver-haired man, his hesitant hand closing the door behind him.

The newcomer made a step forward, pausing to dip his shaky hand inside his woolly coat and pull out a roll of yellow speckled paper tied by a narrow sandy ribbon, then fixing his light brown eyes on a set of red streaked blues.

Vergil refrained from licking his dry lips, not a muscle moved, the numbing pain in his chest kept subdued by the shards of his cast iron control he so painstakingly gathered for this very moment, only to scatter them so recklessly in that damned forest.

He had to keep his mind sharp, clear from all the invading forces, free from the black abyss that sucked away his reason, his ability to remain in command of his own senses and emotions. Only a moment's time to his freedom and salvation; his teeth clenched so tightly he nearly felt them breaking.

The man shot another nervous glance across the murky bar, seemingly satisfied with its subdued clientele and began to progress towards Vergil, showing slight gain in confidence. A shuddering breath left his lungs, his jaw loosening; Vergil nearly lost his vision as an acute sickness washed over him. He was losing his battle against time, it was now or never.

Just as his hand reached for the scroll a loud din of tough glass hitting the hardwood floor broke through the unnatural stillness of the bar. Unable to hold the shock of the sudden blow Vergil jerked his body forward, the blood from his open wound spilling onto the smooth surface of the table.

The scroll slipped away from his burning fingertips. "They are here! They got to you! I am dead, I am so dead!" the man shrieked in utter panic, taking off for the exit in an amazing speed, the closing door sealing away the last scent of hope that still hang in the air.

"No! You fool!" a cry of desperation fought its way to daylight in the form of a strangled growl. With a few seconds delay Vergil bolted upright, knocking the table down and like a shot bullet made for the door.

Startled brown eyes watched the flourish of his raven black coat as he left the bar into the mist ridden, night shrouded streets. Emerging from her hideaway, Vesta cut a glance to the overturned table, eyes as wide as saucers reflecting the slow flow of Vergil's thick blood before she slipped quietly into the cold of the night.

Soft leather boots as quiet as the paws of a wild cat touched the deserted cobbled streets, heading towards the central square. The scent of burning wood snaked its way through the narrow streets, fine ash descending from the legion of chimneys standing guard on the rooftops of the historic half timber-framed buildings. The erratic pattern of the fresh footsteps leading from the Irish bar was almost too easy to follow in the thin layer of dirt.

With a sudden jolt Vergil came to an abrupt stop. The man, his informer, a member of the local council lay dead in the middle of the main square, fresh blood pooling underneath his stiff body, darkening in the cold. A long sword jutted out of his back, still swaying, his head cleanly sliced off lying next to the body.

Vergil started to back away, then against his better judgement changed direction and quickly approached the corpse that was still warm. Bending down, he searched the pockets, then with rising urgency searched everywhere else, once, twice. It was gone. The scroll was no longer there. Whoever killed him must have taken it. And they knew what he was after and possibly even why…

Anger at the cowardly man and anger at himself roiled through his entire being. He should have been more careful, instead of letting his arrogance prevail over reason. Vergil lifted his hand and slammed his fist into the stone next to the corpse. He wanted to yell out loud but simply didn't know how. At the very instant he pulled his bloodied hand away a terrifying scream sliced through the night. Vergil's frozen, pensive eyes snapped upwards abruptly.

A woman stood in one of the side alleys, she screamed again before her hands clasped to her mouth in growing horror. More people started to gather in the square upon hearing her ear splitting performance, windows coming alight all around as more deemed it necessary to go and stare from the comforts of their homes.

"Murderer! He killed him! Someone call the sheriff!" dozens of pointed fingers and shouts that turned into clouds of frost filled the moonlit square. More and more little squares flickered to bright yellow all around, casting increasing amounts of light onto the figure rising with an awkward grace from the fallen human.

A collective shriek intertwined with frightful gasps penetrated the irradiated darkness. "He has a sword! It's him, the killer!"

A pair of soft leather boots spun on the spot and burst forth into a heavy sprint. His breath regular and in perfect balance with his working muscles despite the heavy wounds, Vergil hammered it down into the narrow street, submerging back into the cover of darkness. Not even the moonlight could dip so deep between the two story houses and with the help of the patchy fog he as good as disappeared. For now…

Slowing down to a more comfortable pace, Vergil rounded the corner to stop for a moment, pushing back the blood that began to seep away from his gaping wound, and evaluate his options. In all honesty he had to admit that he was pretty much screwed.

Not only had his only hope just morphed into a bleak nightmare, he would be hunted even more now which would narrow the chances of finding another lead to very much nonexistent. On top of it all he had to get back as quickly as possible to stitch himself up, or expect to soon bleed to death or kill himself, whichever would come first; and the only way back was through the demon infested forest if not back through the town to take the long way over the paved road.

Ironic how no matter which path he would take it would always lead to hell, just when he needs to stay away…

Giving a sharp his of pain Vergil set off to where he had hidden Vengeance, deciding to take his chances with the hell's descendants, at least with them he knew where he stood and he could kill them without any sensitive repercussions. The humans on the other hand were just an intolerable pain in the ass.

After a few blocks he entered an abandoned farm close to the edge of the stygian forest. His stride beginning to falter, Vergil stopped, tilting his head to the side, ears attuned to the quietness surrounding him.

Seemingly unconcerned he resumed his walk, turning into an open gate that led to a dilapidated house but instead of going inside the open courtyard he hid on the other side of the stone wall that encircled the farmhouse, and waited.

The sound of steps, forcibly stealthy yet somewhat hurried crept up along the same path that he arrived on. By the soft crunching of crusted gravel and sand, the splitting of thin ice beneath light feet, Vergil estimated the approaching threat as small, preparing to quickly snap its neck.

His hand shot out in a blinding flash, snatching something thin and warm, and he pulled it towards him, ending up gazing into a set of beautifully shaped, wide brown eyes that were lit with a very irritating, sheepish sheen…

* * *

_Oh oh, Vergil is getting into an even deeper trouble!! And so is Vesta…_

_Now, the humble thanks go to everyone who reviewed!! You know who you are, you guilty people, and you know how much your support means to me!! So keep it up you guys!! Lots of love…_

_And the big cookie goes to…dun dun dun…Shoryaku no Neko…for inspiring the next in the series of 'How to review guide' and here is the next instalment:_

_Step1: As usual follow the boring bit, previous chapters have the details (feel free to yawn, in fact yawning is really good here and encouraged)_

_Step2: Now this is the tricky part cause you actually need to be in a state of extreme drunkenness, or have just undergone a terribly tiring activity that has your eyes begging to be closed and head ready to drop off at any second… (the latter option strongly advised for all under age people) _

_Step3: Position yourself above the keyboard just as you feel you are about to collapse and then start counting the sheep… (just try to restrain from dribbling as you could experience a slight shock of electrocution)_

_And you are done! =) Just don't forget to wake up and don't get the keys stuck to your face…cause that's just embarrassing!_

_**P.S: If anyone would like to see a sequel to Cruel World please vote so in my profile :D**_


	8. Snowballs and ring tones

**Snowballs and ring tones**

The lips, attached to a rather narrow body that hung strung up in front of him, lifted into a wide sheepish grin, one that spelled guilt but pronounced innocence, eyes blinked into a sparkle of reddening dots, slowly watering.

"What are you doing here," Vergil snapped angrily, gripping the dangling girl in his self-patented choke-hold. It was completely resistance proof and air tight amongst other useful qualities.

For an answer she lifted a trembling finger and pointed it at her dying neck in a rather ostensible manner, her attempt to lift her eyebrow failed due to frozen muscles from the lack of oxygen. Seeing his error Vergil let go enough to allow a flow of air into her lungs but didn't relinquish his hold on her altogether.

Vesta inhaled sharply and then gave him the most innocent expression possible. "I-I followed you."

Vergil looked her up and down in a curious manner, not expecting a straight and honest answer. "You have an awful lot of nerves in such a small body," he observed nonchalantly.

Vesta wiggled every part of her she could in his iron grip, face still gaining a lot of red from the pressure. "You would know! You were just…killing them all!"

"What's that supposed to mean, I didn't kill anyone!" immensely turbulent blues narrowed their inferno at the captured woman yet she didn't see much but a blur, thankfully, for the water building up in her eyes.

"My nerves, you were killing my nerves, and still are..rgrhh," she gave a choking cough, trying to pry his fingers off. Even his small finger was impossible to move when she tried to wrench it out with all her fingers at once. But at that moment he just let go and turned away from her, running one hand through his hair in thought.

"You bruised my neck!" Vesta complained, incidentally checking whether her head was still attached, contemplating whether to kick him for it or not. The thought of a slow horrifying death however made her choose the latter.

"Put some ice on it! There is plenty for you to pick from," he spat out as he turned back to her angrily, pointing to the frozen pools of water scattered all around them, pondering why humans had to even mention such petty problems. She should be thankful she was still alive…

"I saw it all. I know you didn't kill that man. But the others…," she said a little carefully, picking upon his exceedingly agitated mood, but despite the obvious threat oozing out of him in thick ribbons she braced her nerves into putting up a brave front, arms folding across her chest in self assurance, head tilting confidently to crack the kink out of her neck.

"What others!" Vergil hissed dangerously, instantly realising that his fuse was beginning to hasten its pace towards the volatile detonator. He had to calm down very fast or he wouldn't be able to control himself. Not anymore. And that could only lead to a quick self destruction. Without another word he brushed passed her, the rundown stable where he'd hidden Vengeance set in his hawk-sharp sights that began to lose focus at the edges.

Vesta bit her lip, unsure whether she should push it as he seemed in a particularly bad mood but then again so far she hadn't seen him in any other mood and her head was still tightly, although painfully, screwed to her neck right? So far he hadn't shown the need to chop her head off. "So you didn't kill the other two?"

Vergil halted with his back to her and for a moment her breath caught, thinking that he would either confess or swipe her head clean off there and then, but instead his head turned and his finger was slowly lifted to press against his lips. She opened her mouth to speak but another voice stole the chilly air that thickened so suddenly.

"Well I'll be damned!" a calm, unconcerned voice echoed with unnatural hollowness all around them. The already frozen ground began to resonate with a soft crackling sound, one that would crawl over every single nerve of any human like a numbing drug, and a handful of perfect snowflakes began to float ominously in the cold night's air.

"You already are…," a voice as smooth as velvet replied, hovering on a dark edge, iceberg blue eyes shut in bliss of calm that enveloped him. Vergil breathed in the promise of a battle to come, a worthy opponent unlike those irritating and gutless creatures of the night, just what he needed to free his mind, and if it came to that, his withering soul. Shame the timing was not on his side…

"Touche," the humanoid shape that slid from behind the decrepit house let out a dark chuckle, its shadow leaving behind a sheet of black ice as it traversed across the moonlit ground.

"Yet my astonishment lingers, I never had you as one to hold a company for longer than a few minutes…," eyes as dark and deadly as black ice came into view from the shadows together with a sneering, white powdered mouth, "…not to mention a female one. Perhaps the rumours are true and you have lost your touch?" a human looking man clad in crisp white from head to toe stood before them.

Four others, exact copies only dressed in jet black, slithered out of the shadows to slowly form a half circle around the unmoving man with blue eyes and the woman who shifted nervously. The snow began to fall hard, forming into thicker clusters of pure white.

"Would you care to find out?" a sharp chink sliced through the density of the air as a deft flick of Vergil's thumb pushed out the guard of his katana.

The man threw his head back and gave a laugh that coiled into a frozen cloud of black mist. The laughter then ceased, turning into a mocking cackle. "I heard you hide in that cursed nest of yours, only to come out and play a scarecrow to those who are stupid enough to believe you are something more. Is _that_ even real?" his white gloved hand shot out to the two-inch-drawn sword.

In a blur, a flash of steel sliced through the coldness of the air, clusters of snow rushing into an erratic whirl, colliding with a spray of bright red before resuming their slow descend towards the ground. A soft thud followed as an arm slid off a shoulder, the settling snow soaking up the pooling blood like a hungry wolf.

Vergil lifted his arctic white eyebrow at the crimson stained blade in a placid bewilderment before giving the glistening metal a sharp flick to the side. "Hmpf, seems real to me…"

"You will pay for this!" the armless man roared sharply, about to lunge out but a white clad hand stopped him.

"Sure. Would you prefer small instalments or one large lump sum?" Vergil's dark snarl made his lips vibrate, the katana sliding painstakingly slowly back into its saya.

"You have gone too far this time, a traitor of the Sparda clan! Did you not think that killing off our informants and confidants one by one would not attract any attention?" the black eyes swirled with a shimmer of deadly opposition.

"I thought you said you didn't kill anyone," Vesta hissed a whisper out of the corner of her mouth from behind him. It went unanswered.

"You are wrong. I did not have to venture very far at all. They all came to me. Too afraid of what would happen if they didn't…oblige," Vergil brought down the katana and rested its sheathed tip on the frozen ground, his hands folded calmly over the hilt, the pain in his chest keeping his senses sharp, for now. His eyes slowly rose to impale the lingering blackness of his opponent.

"They were all fools!" the white lips opened just enough to let out a whip of ice. "But I am no fool and your whims will be no longer tolerated! Killing the local converts was the last straw!" His tone slipping out through tightly gritted teeth was dripping with rage and liquid nitrogen, literally. Small drops fell to the ground, instantly fusing the surface into a layer of smoking ice.

"What makes a fools' leader…," Vergil's eyes danced with frigid mirth. Provocation was a fool's best lure. And he was tiring of this useless chatter. Believe what they wanted he didn't kill those worthless humans who thought they could consort with the higher power. The outcome was obvious regardless. Either he would die or he would kill all five. Nothing less and nothing more.

He just had to try and kill them first, by making them attack senselessly. Vergil felt the air still into a nearly solid state. The shivers of the girl behind him carried like sound waves over the air and washed over his strained senses.

Then the skin of the four minion men started to split and crack, a bloody tear appeared on their foreheads, bubbling and swelling with slimy ooze as if readying to explode and release something trapped within, something much larger than its confines could be perceived to accommodate.

Vergil's heartbeat gained a steady speed, adrenalin rushing to his veins. He remained rigid, eyes closing as their pale, human skin peeled off completely and fell in horrid welting chunks onto the fresh snow.

A strangled gasp that couldn't be heard left the girl's throat, her skin bursting into cold shivers, sensing that perhaps this time her recklessness might have dragged her far too deep. But Vergil's unfaltering steel-calm demeanour gave her a false sense that perhaps it was all a waking nightmare, the workings of her overstressed imagination, all that or the drink the stranger gave at the bar was simply spiked.

For the impossible was unfolding right in front of her very eyes, four beasts the size of a fully stretched adult grizzly bear jumped out of the decimated human skin, sickening long tongues singeing the cold air with their stinking breaths, sinewy bodies streaked with purple veins glistening and pulsing with the slimy remains of the gruesome transformation.

The creature missing an arm lunged at Vergil instantly and a millisecond later his razor sharp blade sung through the falling snow, heading straight for its hideously bloated neck that seemed to move out of the way surprisingly fast. An ear grating sound pierced the night's hazy air as folded steel clashed against two inch long cast iron claws that instantly curved inwards, entrapping the slender katana in a vice like grip.

Feeling his sword stuck Vergil twirled the empty sheath once vertically, plunging its hollow end into the exposed guts bulging right in front of him. The demon roared in ripping agony as a mix of blood and putrid green liquid gushed out of the wound, sucked out to give way to the violently pushing wooden scabbard that tore through its bubbling innards, Vergil gritting his teeth to ram it as deep as he could muster.

Sensing just a slight easement in the hold on his blade Vergil drove his right hand forth, mounds of muscles heaving out, his pupils briefly expanding in a deranged pleasure of the kill as the sword sailed smoothly through the tough hide and crushed through the spinal cord, silencing the noise instantly as the windpipe became saturated with mangled bones and torn out flesh.

Vergil pulled both weapons out of the lifelessly collapsing monster, eyes open wide from the massive blood rush, instantly plunging down to manoeuvre his lithe body in a low swing away from the spray of blood and the deadly swipe of solid-steel talons that came fast from both sides. Two more demons stood on either side of him, piercing him with beaming, calculating red beady eyes as he calmly straightened up, steadying his breathing, not bothering to flick the bloody mess off as he slowly sheathed his deadly katana.

He could see them assessing his moves, studying his stance, stripping away the strengths to unravel his weakness. They were smarter, stronger than the fodder he was used to fighting for so long and it filled him with a sedating feeling of an ice-hard calm and a regret he could not revel in a fight while in top condition. Nevertheless being in a dangerously anaemic and a half delusional state had never counted as a hindrance before…

The fourth demon went for the girl, lifting its proportionally overgrown, wolf shaped head high into the air to let out a menacing howl, tongue darting out in a twisted pleasure, lapping up the sweet scent of her human flesh drizzled with fear that hung in the air. In a frozen trance, her legs moved on their own accord, stepping slowly backwards, mind unable to comprehend the scene unravelling before her.

_It isn't real…_ Vesta tried to close her eyes and shake off the image that shouldn't exist. She was hallucinating, that was the only explanation. They were just humans, nothing more. Calming down, on a count to three she pulled out her cell phone while opening her eyes, holding it out in both hands like a drawn out sword. "Don't come any closer hombre or I will…"

"You will what! Play a scary ringtone?" the sound that came out of those madly cackling mouth lined with dentures from a white shark that could rip her head right off with one bite wasn't human at all. It must have been part of the illusion…

"I'll…speed dial 999!" Vesta blurted out, holding the phone threateningly like a shield in her shaky hands, nothing like keeping the dignity going in a surreal situation. Her eyes swivelled to Vergil, surely he should have chopped their heads off already? Oh, the irony.

He was surrounded by two of those skinless things ugly as hell, very much in resemblance to the one on the painting. They swiped at him with those horrid, abnormal claws and he eluded one with an elegant dance like move, deflecting the other one with the hilt of that ever-present katana. Was this really a place where one needed to wear one like a lucky talisman…

Vergil treaded softly on the thickening ice, his light footing, so precise and balanced on a solid ground, now compromised by the increasingly slippery surface, while their claws, they just locked right in like snow chains, keeping the beasts steady and solidly rooted.

His natural fluidity kept him on his feet as any forceful movements would cost him his balance that the demons tried so hard to undermine by working together in a thought out pattern. If he drew his sword, one side of him would have been instantly compromised. Only he had two weapons in his hands…stalling time until he could feel a better grip under his booted feet and brace himself enough for the complex move.

The hard concentration drew out a bead of sweat on his temple, he heard the girl talk as if from far away, she had no chance at all but he knew they were not really interested in her, she was just a toy to toss about until they were finished with him. Then, only then, they would rip her apart…like cats bored of their helpless prey.

And then the time stopped as a small, perfectly shaped droplet of blood glided down from his open chest and splattered on the whiteness of the snow below. Vergil felt friction under his feet as he stepped upon a small mound of snow and at that very moment the demons spotted his weakness. He was bleeding.

Two pairs of scalpel sharp, two-inch long curved talons came down on him in surprising harmony and with deadly precision, headed straight for his gaping wound that thus far remained concealed by the blackness of his clothing. Legs braced just enough apart Vergil brought the katana horizontally up to his neck and drew it asunder with a brutal yank, the hard hilt and the studded sheath embedding into their jugulars with a sickening crunch, knocking them slightly apart.

With a grip as light as a feather he then spun the naked blade around his neck, fingers dancing around the hilt to switch grip and direction, his little finger compensating for the mild resistance as the sharp edge sailed through their necks like a speed boat cutting through water, the drawn out spray of blood soiling the surrounding snow crimson.

"… the sheriff will join the queue to watch you squirm, puny worm! No one will come to save you…," the hollow, throaty voice chided, enjoying her increasingly shaky resistance.

"…then I will call…Dante!" the woman exclaimed loudly into the microphone and the display sprang to life with a flash of blue light.

Vergil's body began to bend backwards a split second too late upon hearing his brother's name as the demons' elongated sinewy hands finished their gruesome journey despite their severed spinal cords. Watching in horror as their blood shot eyes blinked at him, he just about managed to knock their lingering heads of their pulsing necks before he felt chunks of skin and flesh being torn out of his already damaged chest.

Folding silently to his knees, the night suddenly darkened as if the moon was sucked into a destructive black hole, his blurry vision watching two bodies fall lifelessly to the ice next to him, revealing a figure in white standing quietly in the background amongst the falling snow.

The scream of the girl and an excited howl of the last minion flooded his ears, the sounds soon drowned by his heavy breathing that turned into a violent cough. Head bowed down Vergil saw his reflection in the smooth mirror of the ice lightly covered by intricate snowflakes, now becoming splattered by his own blood, ears picking up the soft patter of someone approaching.

White boots stood before him, blending in with the crackling ice that began to weave in intricate lacy patterns all around him. Vergil's moonstone blues rolled upwards lazily to gaze upon the man as he exhaled a frozen breath in a blissful sigh.

"Perhaps your touch was not quite lost to you…I sincerely apologise," the demon said admittedly, observing his dead men, his voice holding a note of dark admiration. Then he lifted his hand, one slender finger elongating into a spike of ice, as solid and smooth as a polished diamond. A flash of light crossed the sheen surface of the baleful instrument as it was brought down, hurling towards Vergil's pale forehead.

"Accepted!" Out of nowhere the unsheathed katana shot upward, slicing the shard of ice in half just before the spiked tip ran through an eye that swirled with licks of blue fire. The blade continued smoothly to a blue vein standing out on the white clad neck like a splotch of ink on a blank paper.

Then his hand jerked to a halt, the blade unable to go any further, two frost covered fingers holding the edge at the tip that hovered an inch from the pulsing vein. It became too cold, and a shiver ran down Vergil's spine, the fire in his eyes dying as he watched the coating of ice slowly swallow his blade from the tip to the hilt.

A white fist shot forth, shattering the beautiful blade into millions of pieces, the shiny shards scattering on the ground like a shower of razor sharp glitter.

"The quality these days is not what it used to be," Vergil muttered out in annoyance, discarding the white bound hilt that remained, barely rolling out of the wrathful path of ten diamond hard spikes that were embedded into the ground where his bleeding torso was a millisecond ago.

"Now you die!" the black eyes swirled in a raging hailstorm as the lethal icicles were yanked out of the ground and began to detach themselves from the fingers, readying to impale the flesh laying with unshrinking composure beneath them. Vergil's eyes shot closed, knowing that this time there was no time to evade the attack, he braced himself for the ice burning pain to engulf his body.

"Couldn't have agreed more!" a voice as irritating as a blocked toilet, yet strangely comforting at that very moment decimated the built-up tension in the air. A thunder of whizzing bullets soon followed, taking out splinters of ice from the glassy spikes just before they had the chance to sink into tender flesh, apart from three that shot like shrapnel straight through Vergil's right thigh.

Blue eyes snapping open, Vergil took an instant advantage of the demon's distraction and kicking himself off the white robes with his left leg he rolled away heavily, sending the snarling demon reeling backwards.

Dante leapt over the girl that sensibly covered her head with her arms, and turned mid air to drill a new set of breathing holes into the demon that was about to rake her head off with a swipe of its claws. The red clad arms then repositioned to aim at the man in white, body landing into an elegant roll as the trigger of Ivory was squeezed and held tight by a steel calm hand.

The bullets flew flawlessly through the clusters of ice and snow, yet never to reach their intended target. A disk of ice formed right in front of them, absorbing them like a bullet proof vest. The demon picked up the disk and hurled it at Dante, whom simply dodged it by dropping low to the ground.

Dante rose with a lopsided grin, brushing some snow off his blood red coat, only to soon realise that this was all a mere diversion. "Woah!" His grin quickly thinned out into a painful grimace as a blizzard of frozen sleet hit him with full force, sending him flying backwards in a wild tumble.

His cheeks grazed and bleeding, Dante could not figure out which way was up, the storm of whiteness swallowed him whole like a raging avalanche and he was blindly groping about. The only guidance he had was the deranged laughter that made every single snowflake vibrate around him, its source now at least a hundred feet away.

As the deep, vibrating laughter stopped, the white demon dropped his head down, blazing eyes setting their frost laced gaze at Vergil, a beautifully crafted spear the colour of an ancient iceberg poised in his raised right hand. The sleek weapon glistened ominously in the moonlight, the tip dripping with beads of dry ice that produced a hiss as they touched the ground, covering the frozen surface with low-sinking dense clouds of fog.

Vergil tried to get up to his feet, but they buckled under him, sending him reeling back against the cement hard ground that was slowly turning red under him. As the demon readied to send him straight to hell, blue eyes slipped to his brother only to see that he was nowhere to be seen, hands grappling about to pull out something uncomfortable that he happened to painfully land on.

"Say your last prayer, a reject of Sparda!" the white demon roared, recoiling his arm back to hurl the massive spear at his incapacitated target.

"Go to hell…," Vergil yelled back his 'prayer' and in one smooth movement pulled out one long shard of ice from his throbbing thigh together with a spray of blood, piercing with it a large canister that he fished out from under him.

Just as the enormous missile in the form of a javelin carved out of ice began to leave the confines of the white glove, Vergil's half-gloved fingers snapped together, bringing to life a flickering yellow flame, his other hand tossing the metal container low through the air.

"…and freeze it over while you are there!" A trail of gasoline spattered the pureness of the snow in a perfect line and Vergil lowered his thumb with the dancing flame towards the first few drops…

Something flipped his nose. Seeing only whiteness that howled relentlessly all around him, the disorientated half devil swivelled his head towards the female voice that jumped at him out of nowhere.

"…Dante! I can understand your fascination with my ass but will you stop groping it and go help your brother?" Vesta grabbed his chin, jerking his face to the middle of the roiling snow where Vergil was supposed to be, her other hand pointedly unclasping his warm palm from her backside.

"Babe! All I can see is a giant snowball! And did you just flip me?" he shook her hand off forcefully, rubbing his nose pointedly.

"Well you did grope me! And how the hell did you get here so fast? I only called a minute ago and you didn't even answer! Not to mention knowing where we…"

Her words slipped back down her throat as she stared with gaping mouth at the surrounding snow. It was as if each single snowflake began to explode, crackling away like a never-ending firecracker all around them, the howling of the wind slowing down until there was nothing left but a clear, brightly moonlit air.

Through the dissipating haze they could see an outline of a massive, misshapen white silhouette being engulfed in white flames, and a terrifying scream ripped through the horrid scene before silence claimed its victory and fell over the slowly falling snow.

They both rose from the ground almost simultaneously and instantly spotted the black blotch laying some meters away from the sparks that were rapidly dissipating into nothingness.

"See? He doesn't need any help," Dante made a disburdening gesture with his hand, then proceeded to stylishly pull down on his trousers near his crotch as his underwear had dug in uncomfortably deep during his wild tumble.

"Then why isn't he moving?" Vesta remarked doubtfully.

They both looked at each other, needing no other words to spontaneously break out into a mad dash across the snow covered ice towards Vergil.

"And by the way you texted me twenty minutes ago, and told me where to find you…," Dante threw back over his shoulder, already way ahead of her.

Stunned, Vesta came to a skidding halt. Yeah, and whom was he fooling really, since his phone didn't have a short message service. Pulling out her mobile assuredly she was about to show him that she had never texted him when her eyes froze on a message in her outbox. It was addressed to another mobile number about twenty minutes ago. She pulled out his business card from her pocket, reading it again, but the number was different. Almost ready to put it back, she thought of turning the card over. There was that number with a small superscription in front of it: _Only for the loneliest and scariest emergencies._

"You know the 'getting yourself killed to try and impress a woman' gig is wearing a little thin already," Dante loomed over his brother with hands in his pockets, letting the melted snow drop down on Vergil's face from his dishevelled hair.

"What gave you the impression I was getting myself killed?" a grumble came out from underneath, blue eyes opened lazily to cast a glance at the identical pair, before gazing off at the heavily descending snow.

"So you admit to trying…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" the paler than ice blues changed trajectory to impale Dante's grinning face with a warning.

The grin grew small as Dante bent down to ask in a hushed, sceptical tone. "Still too cold to transform?"

"Incontestably," Vergil assured him stubbornly, his eyes averting contact.

Dante was about to question it further but heard Vesta approach from behind. "Heh, he is still learning English. I can never tell what he says," he turned to her sheepishly, changing the subject.

"It's an old English dialect. It requires great deal of concentration and…silence," she peeked at Vergil from behind Dante charmingly.

"And just how would you know!" Vergil spat back, still lying on his back in the settling snow.

"Well I tend to write, when I don't take time off to hallucinate," the brunette looked around, shaking her head as her eyes swept over the very human looking bodies of four corpses dressed in black, laying in pools of blood, the heads of three of them severed, the last one's head still attached but mashed up horribly.

"No matter how delightful this little chatter is, if you would excuse me, I have a ride to catch," Vergil put two fingers to his pale lips, lined red at the corners. A sharp whistle pierced through the air, instantly eliciting an excited response and the clatter of four iron clad hooves over an icy surface.

"Damn, I wish I could do that with my power horse," a low whistle passed through Dante's lips and he scowled as his motorbike parked round the corner failed to make an appearance.

Within seconds Vengeance stood next to its master, nudging his head curiously with its soft black nose while letting out a satisfied grunt. Vergil began to peel himself off the ice, seemingly painfully, revealing a darkened patch of snow under him. It was saturated with blood.

Vergil scooped up the disguise of his shattered katana, the hilt neatly clasped into the empty sheath, and lifted himself up heavily. After nearly a minute of him staring at the unreachable obsidian seat, and Dante and Vesta staring at the amount of blood he left behind, Vergil inclined his head to the side and cleared his throat.

"A little help…"

Dante felt like tossing back a deft remark but thought better of it. There was something that passed like a grater through his guts and it dawned on him that his twin should have been healing a lot faster. True enough that self-centred snowman had been very powerful but not quite enough to cause Vergil _that_ much damage. If he had triggered Vergil could have burned that ice of the asshole in seconds. So perhaps he had mistaken the symptoms as strictly mental when in fact they went far deeper? He should confront his brother about it later but for now he knew that they had to all get back to the house, and fast.

In one quick movement he hoisted Vergil up onto to horse, his surprised brother, expecting a barrage of half-witted comebacks winced as his ribs grated against the open wound at the movement. It would be a ride in hell, he thought, preparing himself mentally while grabbing the reins when something was tossed behind him.

"What do you think you are doing," his head swivelled back with dangerous slackness, eyes narrowing to burn off Dante's crafty smirk.

"Oh how wonderful! I have never been on a horse before!" another crafty, sparkly smirk smacked Vergil's face from behind.

"And you are not going to!" Vergil barked back at the girl, then singed Dante's resisting grin again. "Care to explain how could I possibly accommodate an inexperienced rider at full gallop through hazardous terrain while myself fractionally inconvenienced?"

"It's easy Verge," Dante patted him on the shoulder, snorting at his brother's choice of words. "You steer and she will keep you awake and at full attention. Couldn't have you falling off somewhere into the bushes in the middle of, eh, wolf infested forest now could we?" he raised his eyebrow cheekily, giving the horses' bottom a healthy wallop but felt somewhat circumvented, when instead of shooting off into a mad gallop the animal simply swung its neck back and baring its big teeth, ripped away a piece of red leather from his arm.

"Hey, hey, hey! You little shit!" Dante lifted his tattered arm at the beast pointedly as if expecting an apology but only got the piece of the leather spat out at him with a self-satisfied neigh.

Vergil endowed his brother with an evil half-smirk. "So be it," his little finger made a miniscule movement and the beast broke out into a light trot.

"I will take the long way around then," Dante shouted after them disgruntled, watching them disappear behind the decrepit farmhouse and out of the reaches of the moonlight that was breaking so persistently through the descending snow.

The howling came about as soon as they entered the white-capped blackness of the woods and the unnerving noise thickened the deeper they delved in.

The ride was akin to the fastest rollercoaster ride through the scariest house of horrors and Vesta subconsciously clung to Vergil's back, imperceptive of the blood that was staining her clothes and cheeks.

"Aren't you going to use your sword?" she asked warily when the howling seemed to get too close for comfort.

"No need…," he drawled out darkly and cryptically, "…your so called singing is more than efficient as a lethal weapon, so use it!" the acerbity and sarcasm in his voice could have been bottled up and sold as a commodity on the stock market. Yet there was a strange undertone of annoyance and unease that spoke of real urgency.

"Wha-?" her amazement left her mouth agape as she stared at his bleeding back, the mad thudding of hooves across the wet leaves and pine needles muffling her voice.

Vergil was livid. "Start singing!! Now!!"

* * *

_Man, could it get any worse? Vergil's katana broke!! Believe me, it will get even worse… *evil chuckle*_

_And the next instalment of the 'How to review guide' for those who are still struggling, we have a rather cheery one today!_

_Step1: Get your mood ready and start shaking your gorgeous ass as you follow the instructions from previous – oh my, which chapter was it again?_

_Step2: Now put on your favourite song, one with some seriously cool keyboard solo and crank it up!!_

_Step3: Now get rocking baby!! Wiggle your fingers above your computer keyboard to get the blood flowing and sink them in, show me what you got!! Mash it and smash it! Rock hard!! And remember to shake your head wildly and look really silly!!_

_Right, sorted! All new ideas are welcome ;)_


	9. The white snow kept falling

**The white snow kept falling **

Vergil barely slid off the sweat covered back, the normally graceful feet landing with an overly heavy thud on the soft, snow covered soil that could be found on the ground of the manor. Yet Vesta didn't know whether to help him or kick him for he made her sing all the way through that haunted forest, to outvoice those terrible sounds that kept coming from all sides yet strangely never made it close enough to reveal their origins. Her throat was sore from the cold and on top of it she nearly swallowed a bug!

But then he did reach behind several times to pull her back up when she was slipping off and reminded her politely to duck her head when he could have quite easily kept quiet and let the low branch take her head off. It was very strange how he seemed to so steadily drift away from her definition of 'the other kind' yet act almost subconsciously that way, keeping the worst impression of him like a solid mask that he left on intentionally.

That is why she would go there, go inside with him and help him, at least until his brother would arrive and take over. Besides he still hadn't answered her questions, only piqued her curiosity even more, and being in his presence would at least somewhat help ease her childish needs that he so inconsiderately overlooked by coming all bloody and broody to that Irish bar.

At least that was what they called it, childish. Born of her selfish need to be loved as a parentless child, a need that had never been answered. So she took it into her own hands, literally, seeking to be loved through physical means, through touch, words and most often the ritual of sex, disregarding all the consequences bestowed upon her by those that were more than willing to give it. For a while. Until they saw her as a burden, a mere whim, or a toy to use as they saw fit. Yet she just couldn't help it and do it all over again.

So she hoped, hoped for two things. That her unhealthy need might be lessened by staying in the presence of someone too cold and introverted to bestow upon her any affections and if he did then hoping that they would turn out to be a little more lasting and genuine. _Prove me wrong_, she thought calling it a little experiment as she watched him stumble to the door, growling something at the key that was caked in too much blood to fit in the lock.

"You know I didn't think it was my place to say anything but Dante should have taken you straight to a hospital!" Vesta called out to him, catching up so that he wouldn't close the door in her face since he just managed to unlock it.

"You were correct, it wasn't your place and still isn't now," his tone was dry and cold as he opened the door but then he paused and turned his head back, blue eyes lighting up with consideration as they drifted toward her in a reluctant sideways glance. "You may however turn your concern into some form of usefulness and assist me in repairing the damage."

Splendid! Now she didn't need to charm her way in, only club him over the head for his shameless arrogance. Vergil waited for her to acknowledge an acceptance which she gave in the form of a catty smile and then he entered, leaving the door open.

Vergil dragged himself along the panelled wall by his shoulder, so tired, the pain he felt now a mere discomfort to the inferno he had endured through the snow lit woods. The ride had taken it out of him and he had welcomed her presence for he could not trust himself alone with Dante again in such a weakened state. For he would be less inclined to divulge any secrets as Dante's attention would no doubt be averted in her direction.

After propping the broken katana against the fireplace he peeled the long, raven black trench off his shoulders, sending the bloodied garment to the floor with a pain saturated short hiss.

"So that you know, I am willing to testify that it was all a self defence. I mean those guys didn't give you any choice," came confidently from the dark hall behind him, the door closing with a soft click.

"You are willing…," arctic blues matted with tiny red veins and bitter mirth diverted their attention to the girl. "There will be no enquiry. Not for _them_… They will omit that nonsensical ceremony and come to me directly for their righteous judgement…," Vergil detached himself from the wall with a sarcastic curl of his lip and let himself collapse onto the antique, dark blue striped sofa. "...and for my execution," voice resembling the lake, calm and shrouded in protective fog just like his fathomless eyes, Vergil began to unzip the black, shredded vest, tugging harshly at the zip when it caught on the drying blood.

Was it a figure of speech? Not knowing what to make of it or how to answer, Vesta said the first stupid thing that came to her mind. "And you will invite them in as long as they don't start singing?"

"You learn fast," his features contorted as he pulled his arms back to take off the vest sluggishly, sliding it over his pallid toned arms that glistened with tiny droplets of perspiration like the morning dew on a window pane.

_And you sure are not the shy type either, dammit._ Vesta bit her lip as her stomach imploded with hot lava like it did around Dante but without the unpleasant side effects. "Damn, I knew those folks in town looked weird!" she moved closer to the sofa, taking in a deep breath. He just had to make it extra hard, didn't he… "Who was that man Vergil, you know, the one you _didn't _kill?"

The vest ended up on the hardwood floor, sailing through the air to join the coat unceremonially. Paler than ice blues looked up at her in silent disbelief. "Do you hold your life to such a low merit? Forget what you saw or what you think you saw. There is nothing you can do," his tone darkened as he diverted his attention to his gloves, pulling them off finger by finger, elbows resting on his knees.

"Right. So what can I do then before you ask me very politely to leave?" she gave him a smug face and a short, sharp, resentful sigh.

Vergil dropped the beige leather gloves to the floor and paused. Then his eyes slowly fixated on her. "Bring me the black box, you will find it in the bathroom. First draw on the left. And brandy, from the kitchen. The whole bottle. Then light up the fire…with these," Vergil gestured to his discarded clothes with a flick of his chin, voice languid and inexpressive.

"Oh sure, has your maid quit on you?" she forfeited her customary snort and adorned him with a dubious smile instead.

"She doesn't take well to blood, too vivid of a reminder," he answered impassively.

"Hm, who does? So, is that all?" Vesta added caustically, placing a hand on her bent out hip as she was turned, about to dash off to the bathroom that she saw on her way in.

"No. You can hereupon attend to me and clean up my chest," Vergil laid himself down on his back comfortably with a tired sigh, closing his eyes as if not to give her an opportunity to question what he had just asked her.

Vesta stared at him for a while, then gulped involuntarily. "Yeah, that's a good one," she let out a short agnostic laugh and left to collect the said items, glancing back once more but he gave off no signs whatsoever that he could have been pulling her leg.

Standing in the bathroom Vesta gave a huff at not being even able to look at herself in the mirror to ask what on earth she was doing as it was shattered to thousands of little octagons. Cold and introverted shouldn't have involved asking to poke around his chest! What was she going to do? The Brandy! Yes she should have some…

One narrowed blue eye popped open, the sofa scraped slightly across the floor as one hand pushed against the wall to shift the body into a more bearable position. The pain was making him agitated and he started to feel increasingly restless. What was keeping that girl! He needed the alcohol to calm down right now, the blinding agony of each movement that ripped like fire through his wound and each syllable of that ridiculous song that she no doubt used to aggravate him on purpose, turned a normally relaxing ride to one patented in the most inventive pits of hell.

Just as he was about to roll off the sofa Vesta danced in, sporting a lot merrier mood than she had left with, holding a bottle of Armagnac in one hand, the black box with a symbol in red on its lid in the other, humming beautifully, very much in tune.

Vergil stared at her in dazed awe as her narrow form twirled about the lounge, gracefully zooming past the coffee table. "Why is everyone insisting on making a complete fool out of me!! You subjected me to that heinous noise deliberately!? And stop prancing about like an about to be emasculated horse! It's giving me a migraine!" he snatched the bottle from her angrily as her hand flashed past. Vergil's eyebrows drew into a dangerously crinkly scowl, voice gaining in depth and volume. "And what the hell is keeping Dante!" He pushed his thumb to knock off the cork in her direction, snarling as it bounced off the fireplace harmlessly.

Feeling the fine veins on his temples pulsate unsafely, Vergil quickly tipped the bottle upside down in a faint hope that the alcohol would work extra fast, for his other hand already began to search for something to grab and destroy, nails ripping the fabric of the Victorian sofa to shreds.

"I might just know how to get that grumpy kink out of your mood," she said teasingly suddenly standing next to him, tapping his nose lightly with her forefinger, then her face lit up with the widest of smiles.

"My mood is what I make it, it requires no adjustments from anyone else," a growl made it out past the thin line of his lips as the alcohol wasn't helping and the cold sweat breaking out on his skin began to feel like liquid nitrogen in the chilly air. "Don't you have a fire to make?" he nearly seethed, his breaths becoming short and heavy.

Vesta shrugged and waltzed off to the fireplace, grinning at the shiny pebbles as she took them in her hands and clashed them together. "Hey, what are these, some kind of an invention?" It sparked up a tune in her mind and she cleared her throat. "Youuuuu light my fire…"

"Quiet!"

"You know, your charm is truly dazzling. And I almost started to think that you didn't categorize as a complete assh…," Vesta's flamboyant defences snapped into place but her cheerfulness drained visibly from her face as she turned to him.

He was shaking. And not just shivering but visibly shaking all over, knuckles turning white from grasping the edge of the sofa, the bottle rolling on the floor with a quiet clank. She got up to her feet and came to him, kneeling down to pick up the bottle. It was close to empty. His eyes seemed glazed over as he stared somewhere into mid space, mumbling something about hell and no chance of a submission.

"Damn, that looks really nasty," Vesta ran her finger along the ragged edge of his stab wound that looked ripped to shreds, pulling her lips back in a slightly disgusted gesture as some more blood squirted out and ran down the side. She leaned in to peek inside, quickly recoiling back as she could swear she saw the bottom of his heart beating right inside that bubbling inferno of crimson.

Shaking it off as an alcohol induced imagination she pressed her finger against his cold, sweat drizzled forehead. "I think it might be infected," she surmised, mistaking the gaping hole in his chest for the cause of his feverish symptoms. "That's it, I am calling an ambulance right now!" she frowned, instantly sobering up.

Pulling her mobile from her pocket, she began to dial 999, when her wrist was squeezed so tight the phone fell out of her hand, clattering onto the floor. Vergil fixed his gaze on her, eyes like the hottest flame yet inexplicably they made her feel cold all over. It was a hollow gaze, a blank mind from behind those madness crazed eyes pushing his hand slowly towards her pulsing neck.

Her muscles stiffened as she realised what he was about to do and on impulse she tipped the bottle that she was still holding, the remaining contents splashing straight over his heaving chest.

His eyes blinked rapidly, instantly clearing up as if he was snapped out of a deep trance. He clenched his jaw and threw his head back, bucking up violently as the hard alcohol licked his insides clean like an acid. "Darn woman! Are you trying to kill me?" Vergil snapped harshly, sinking back into the sofa exhaustedly.

"Well you wanted it cleaned up?" she offered him a half guilty lopsided grin, one that spelled that she had no idea what kind of a response would be coming back and was ready to run for her life if need be.

But instead of punching his fist through her face as she expected, he reached for the black box that sat on the coffee table and pulled out an evil looking curved needle that would have not been too small to use on a working horse.

"Then you can finish it and seal it up!" he held the already threaded needle in front of her widening eyes, her browns squinting as he moved the diabolical instrument right under her nose. "Well? You can sew can't you?"

Dante pulled in silently, switching off the engine and lights as soon as the dark outline of the mansion protruded from the twisted shadows of the misshapen trees that lined the serpentine entrance. Holding a bunch of dried wild flowers in one hand he got off the bike and aimed for the faint flicker of light coming from the ground floor window, struggling to penetrate the night through the thick clumps of the falling snow.

Quiet as a mouse he unlocked to door with his secret key that wasn't a secret anymore and stepped into the dark hallway. Not knowing quite why he had stopped for a coffee first and was sneaking in like that, he hoped that maybe Vergil would find it tempting to confide to a stranger if he couldn't to his closest family. Maybe he would catch a snippet of a conversation, or something that would shed more light on what he began to suspect was the cause of Vergil's steady decline.

Only what he heard from the cover of the darkness over the soft crackling of burning wood wasn't at all what he had expected and it made his eyes expand to the size of flying saucers.

"Lower…," a low-pitched, naturally deep voice murmured softly, slipping into a satisfied rumble.

"How is that…," a calming, decidedly feminine voice joined in.

"Mmmmm…harder," it was an uncompromising command purred in the most sensual way.

_Vergil?_ Dante shifted uncomfortably in the shadows.

"I'll go real slow…," the female voice flooded the room like fresh honey, making the fine hair stand on the back of Dante's neck.

"Don't stop," his brother's normally distant voice sounded lost in its entirety in a cloud of pleasure.

"I can do this all night," her words were amazingly convincing, gliding on a sultry voice.

"A few more hours of this and I might even be able to endure your singing…"

A generous slap cut through the warmth of the air. On naked flesh! Dante clamped his hand to his face, rubbing it vigorously, thinking he must have been hallucinating.

"I can feel it slipping back in…," she exhaled, breathing more elaborately.

"Go deeper!"

Unable to take it any longer, Dante leaped out of his hiding, vaulting over the furniture, Ivory sinking harshly into the skin on Vesta's slender neck. "Get your hands of my brother you filthy corruptive vixen!"

A pair of moonstone eyes that re-swirled from a deep contentment to an even deeper murderous intent flashed from under Dante's arm. "Do you _ever_ knock!?"

"What is she doing? I thought your pants were too tight for a woman," Dante proclaimed accusingly with a heavy sarcastic undertone.

"Well, he was rather tight…," Vesta pointed out, her hands still sunk deep into the hard heaps of Vergil's back muscles.

"And you just had to try to fit, did you?" Dante snapped at her peevishly, chin raised up and eyes slightly crazed as the gun slid further into her hair, his other hand holding the flowers right in front of Vergil's face.

Vesta brought her hands up defensively, crossing two fingers. "I swear my intentions were honourable! I really had no idea you two were…uuum…involved?" she glanced back and forth between Vergil, Dante and the flowers.

"What? No!" Dante instantly threw the pleasantly smelling bunch onto the coffee table, the dried petals smacked across Vergil's face in the process. "These are for my _mother,_ not that it is any of your business!" he gave Vergil a meaningful glare while supposedly addressing the girl.

"Yeah nothing is my business around here it seems but I still pay the rent!" Vesta protested, throwing her hands palms up into the air.

"Oh sure, I can see that!" Dante sent her a stern glare, diverting his eyes to the way she was straddling Vergil's lower back with her tightly clad thighs. He was instantly disappointed that she failed to blush.

"Dante, put the gun down! There will be no shooting guests in my house!" Vergil ordered him in a voice riveted with an adamant tone, his deeply flaring eyes presented no alternatives either.

Dante instantly drew Ivory back from the girl's head and gave an impish shrug, grin spreading across his face that was only a moment ago cast in rigidness on par to Vergil's. "Yeah, it's just that I really need to talk to you Verge," Dante twirled the gun expertly on his forefinger before holstering it back behind his bright red coat.

Vergil stared at his brother, not a muscle moved, Vesta stared at Vergil's sweat covered back, wondering just how did she manage to end up in the exact position she tried to avoid so desperately. She got him to turn over to stitch the narrow entry wound on his back after discovering her slightly sadistic side as she drove the hellish needle lavishly through his tattered flesh trying hard to make him flinch or make a sound even just once, but he never did.

Then she simply plunged her fingers into that plethora of intricately weaved muscles finding Vergil's iceberg demeanour somewhat melt under her deeply probing touch as if no one had ever touched him like that before. Nothing could have taken her fingers off at that very moment as she began to run her thumbs up astride his spine and massage those tension packed bundles of hardened flesh, carefully avoiding the stitched up gash that glistened so ominously just under his shoulder blades.

At that same moment Vergil had allowed his eyes to close, wondering how he had just discovered another way to slip into a state of complete calm and relaxation… A back massage. And it couldn't have come at a more critical moment. How could an activity that involved the presence of another prove so un-irritating? The only time he had ever enjoyed company was when sparring with Dante as his simplistic twin always traded half of his childishness for half of seriousness during a fight. Shame he seemed to have lost that ability now… But the girl, she had just upped her status from utterly counterproductive to marginally useful…

"Um, in private," Dante handed his twin his stare back, even more pointedly.

Vergil looked up at Vesta, cocking a suggestive eyebrow. "Oh, don't mind me," she peeled herself reluctantly from his narrow hips and jumped off the sofa with an innocent, light hop, clasping her hands in front of her while biting on her lower lip. Secretly she cursed Dante for coming back at all, she might have persuaded Vergil to relieve her own tension if he hadn't interrupted so soon. The wolf had turned into a lamb under her touch and during those few short moments she was convinced that she could have made him do just about anything…

Both the twins' gazes turned to her as she was just rocking there in between the sofa and the glass coffee table, a barely audible hum escaping from her tightened lips as if lost in thoughts, eyes roaming across the room and the ceiling.

"Right then, I'll just…go…there…woah!" she exclaimed, her hand shooting out at the large furry creature with red beady eyes that just popped out of the kitchen as if it owned the place.

In a flash Dante had Ivory drawn and pointed right between the eyes of the oversized rat but then a sly smirk played across his lips and instead of shooting it he popped the gun back and took a slow stroll to the fireplace.

"No shooting guests in your house, right Vergil? I always wondered if I could quarter it the way you do with Yamato," he was about to grab the white hilt when he felt his gun whipped out from its holster and a single gunshot sliced through the air, ricocheting with an exquisite zip off the tiles in the kitchen.

Vergil gave the smoking gun a spin on his small finger before dropping it expertly back into the safety of the tough leather on Dante's back, then proceeded to depart in the direction of the unlit hallway.

"I thought you said…," the astounded Dante began to file his protests but found himself interrupted.

"I said guests Dante, I do not extend that courtesy to self invited intruders. Keep that in mind as a personal favour," Vergil quirked up an eyebrow meaningfully. "Are you coming or not?"

"Right, I will go and make you some dinner then…," Vesta eyed the rat sporting a hole drilled perfectly in the centre of its unseemly grimacing face and disappeared into the kitchen.

The scowl on Dante's forehead said it all as he followed Vergil reluctantly, shooting a suspicious glance back at the girl before grabbing the flowers. "Rat burgers?" he speculated, rubbing his chin.

"Delicious…," Vergil reached out for a new coat that hung in the hall.

The night was magical as large trusses of snow descended silently and peacefully through the light haze of the moonlight, creating a soft white cushion over the hard contours of the land. Two pairs of boots crunched on the cold surface of the fluffy cushion, leaving behind perfect footprints that lead to the back of the east wing of the old manor house.

A lonely cross came to view, emerging from the deep shadows cast by an ancient, rambling oak that bore more scars than the land it stood on. A hand protected from the cold by soft leather gloves brushed the freshly fallen snow off a thick slab of stone and placed the small bunch of wild flowers on top of the cold black surface.

The snow kept falling, landing on the ground with inaudible tenderness, settling on two figures standing in silence, blending in with their white hair that they wore so differently.

Several minutes passed when Vergil finally cleared his throat. "There was no need to get upset for I did not forget our mutual vow to our mother," his tone was soft and words unhurried as he leaned forward and with a flick of his thumb and a forefinger lit up the slim white candle that was placed in a small silver stand on top of the obsidian stone.

"She isn't there is she…," Dante said almost matter-of-factly as if the words had no weight at all. "I know more than you give me credit for…"

The snow kept falling as pale moonstone eyes stared ahead at the flickering light that was born of a promise of two sons to come together and remember their mother on each anniversary of her birthday. It completely took him off guard, the tightness that gripped his insides became almost unbearable and he tried to counteract it by shifting weight and swallowing the bile that formed in his throat. The feeling of utter despondence however didn't go away, it gnawed tighter and tighter.

"Ignorance is kind, there is only pain in the truth," Vergil managed to say in his customary indifferent manner before gripping his stomach and slumping down to all fours to cough up the contents of his stomach into the pure whiteness of the snow.

"My sincerest apologies, I do not understand how that could have happened…," Vergil's lips trembled and he wiped them off with the back of his hand, completely disregarding the pain that ripped through his chest as a result of the violent reaction.

"Well, you know, usually that's called feelings," Dante came up to him and a firm hand patted Vergil's back. "It's ok bro, next time we will both pretend and we can throw up together," he squeezed his brother's shoulder compassionately.

"How-did you-know?" A pair of eloquent eyes filled with confusion drifted up and Dante felt copper taste in his mouth as the flow of feelings he had never seen in those eyes before made him subconsciously bite down on his tongue.

"Because every year we stand here your mind never rests, it goes off and wanders somewhere else. And you wouldn't do that, you would be at peace if she was here, lying in that beautiful coffin you made."

Vergil pulled himself up to his knees and slowly rose, turning to Dante. His brother was right. He knew a lot more than Vergil gave him credit for and although it made him feel like a complete fool it also gave him a strange sensation of comfort. Yes he was a fool as he was being the weaker of the two all this time…

Within a few moments Dante watched his brother's eyes change from a turbulent whirl to a stern, empty look that had that strange, frightening light behind it and he knew Vergil was going to go through it again, go through it all and tell Dante what had happened to their mother.

"Don't tell me, I better not know. As you say ignorance is bliss. And I get enough nightmares as it is. Just tell me one thing," Dante rubbed his chin with his gloved fingers, pausing to find his words. "Is that why you keep punishing yourself? Is that why you stopped fighting?"

Their identical eyes stayed locked for a few long moments.

_I have never had to put up a bigger fight in my life than now, brother…_

"I had made some mistakes in the past. I had used my demonic dispositions in blind haste without fully understanding the consequences. Since my return I had sworn to exercise better control over my abilities even to the extent of not being able to recall them at will. The balance is never right, brother. I struggle to achieve it but I will find it eventually," a small note of bitterness played in his voice, a trace of a rueful grin etched on his face as he averted his eyes.

Dante observed his brother for a while, trying to process the meaning of his words before responding. "Right. But there is still something that's really eating you and it has nothing to do with…whatever it was you just said," he walked around Vergil to look him straight in the eye.

Vergil broke the contact yet again and turned his head to the grave. "I need to say goodbye. I have not been given the opportunity to bid my farewell and I never will because the only place I will end up in is hell and that is not where I would find her…"

"Yeah, that sucks. I didn't understand it then when she said it to me but I suppose it did make a big difference once I did understand," the younger twin dropped his eyes down, poking his foot in the snow. "I don't know what to say Verge," his voice was growing small. Then he looked up and opened his arms, eyes flickering with compassion. "Need a hug?"

It was like a burning shard that ripped through his heart at that very moment and Vergil nearly flinched at the memories it stirred within him. He remembered what he had carved out on the dining table and etched a mental warning on his mind to erase his note to his brother as soon as opportunity allowed. What was he thinking?

Instead of the answer he began to crave to give, Vergil turned his head back and held his hand out in objection. "Please, I am not that desperate!"

"Aww, you remembered," Dante teased, his grin widening as he made a few steps closer to Vergil, arms still wide open, laughing when Vergil skilfully avoided his embrace by a light footed manoeuvre.

"Yes, I have the misfortune of remembering the most annoying moments," Vergil sighed in frustration but Dante knew his brother's memories were not always that painful.

"C'mon, I'm starving. Even the rat burgers seem heavenly right now," Dante patted his stomach and began to slide his feet across the compacted snow back towards the house.

"Perhaps there is something I need," Dante span back in surprise at his brother's insecure tone and he almost lost balance, slipping on the compressed snow that was turning to hard ice.

His face lit up with careful expectation. All of his previous attempts to talk to his brother about what had gotten him into such a reclusive and depressed state had been unsuccessful up until now, yet even though he was finally getting some snippets of an explanation he couldn't help the feeling that behind it all there was something far worse. Vergil would never change his mind purely out of his own need, there had to be a good reason, like something bad about to happen very soon that gave him a reason to talk and it nearly made him feel like following Vergil's example and puke.

But since his stomach was rather empty Dante decided instead to keep a much closer eye on his brother from that point on. In the meantime he just tilted his head as a signal for Vergil to spill it out.

"I need you to promise me you will never enter hell, no matter what reasons may ever arise, no matter who asks you to, even if it was me," Vergil's voice at that moment was more chilling than the air around them and darker than the coat that draped all the way down to his heels as he stood there unmoving like a statue carved out of ice with ferocious, intensely burning eyes.

Dante found himself agape as that was not at all what he had expected, not that he quite knew what to expect in the first place. Did all of this, what was happening to his brother, have to do with hell? But hadn't Vergil just told him it had to do with finding a balance? But what the hell did that mean? And fuck the fucking puns!

"Sure I promise Verge," Dante said mechanically, still mulling over why Vergil would ask him that in particular. And what did he mean even if it was him who asked it? And why was it that whenever Vergil gave him answers he ended up confused even more?

"It would help if you meant it Dante. Swear on our mother's grave," Vergil demanded, staying rooted in the snow like a fine sculpture, his eyes holding Dante hostage in front of him.

Dante let out a short bitter laugh and shook his head, throwing his hand into the air. "It's empty!" the built up frustration was beginning to show in his voice as he raked his hand through his silver hair, dislodging a large number of snowflakes, then his palm held the back of his neck. Dante's eyes rose to his brother to see his jaw clenched so tight he could nearly hear the bones popping.

"Just tell me why you want this from me and I will promise. And I promise I will mean it," Dante compromised in a softer voice, letting out a shaky sigh. He knew that it had to be connected with his brother's declining state of mind and it distressed him to no end that Vergil was not forthcoming. But he never was, with anything, and second guessing was becoming the only way to gain the truth.

"Man, just give me a hint here…," Dante tried to reason with his stubbornly silent brother although he already knew where that would lead. He would need to ask around and find out for himself.

The snow kept falling with elegant grace, its soft whisper filling in the silence around them.

After a moment that could have been an eternity Vergil's lips barely moved. "Ignorance is kind, Dante…"

The kitchen smelled divine as the fresh scent of venison coiled in transparent swirls whirled up to the vaulted ceiling and the chime of a beautiful tune swept through the room. Vesta danced over the old ceramic tiles with the smoking pot in her hand, pausing as her eyes met with those of the unfortunate creature.

_Nothing should die for the way it was created_, she thought, promising to give the rat a decent funeral no matter how ugly or scary it looked. Like a sudden flash her stomach was tied into a tight knot and she nearly dropped the dinner onto the floor as she jerked at the dark and sinister laughter that cut through her thoughts. It was so real as if someone was standing behind her. She spun around but her only companion was the eerie silence.

Heart beating fast, she inclined to the side and peeked into the living room. "Who's there? Vergil?"

A voice replied in a low, chilling whisper from behind her neck.

_Your funeral will be just as fitting…_

* * *

_Guys? Can you tell me honestly what you think? Do you still like where this is going? Please drop me a line XD _ I made Vergil throw up!!_

_Five kilos of pure gratitude to those who are reading (just let me know that you do!!) and five tons of hugs & kisses to those who reviewed!! :D You keep me going on! I need your support!! _

_Now, for the next instalment in the 'How to review guide' series in 3 easy steps:_

_Step1: Get the competitive spirit going while you press that tempting Review button that gives you an evil wink, come on you know you really want to press it!_

_Step2: Go hunting for at least two common garden snails, not some dinky ones but the heavyweight champion kind! _

_Step3: Feel free to paint colourful racing numbers on their shells (muhaha) and then place them in the centre of the keyboard, and ready, steady, SLOW!!! Encouraging shouts are encouraged! The winning snail will get an exclusive appearance in the next chapter!!_

_Enjoy!! (The suggestion was a courtesy of Tamato, you can blame him for the snail trail!! Bahaha!)_

_PS: Any more votes for a Cruel World sequel? I would like at least 10 to get inspired so if you liked the first one please vote in my profile, thank you kindly :)_


	10. The snow fields painted red

**The snow fields painted red**

A small battle was won in the perpetual war as the faint yellow globe hanging low in the sky managed to burn briefly through the thick canvas of the fog and made its victory count, sending its finest envoy of light and warmth through the frost covered windows.

Two sets of toes sticking out from under the silky sheets wiggled up and down, disturbed by the soft crackling that the melting ice made on the window panes. Senses sharpening as they eased out of the deep slumber, the tall and lean form entangled in the waves of goose down duvet stirred, arm stretching and curving up to sweep the white waterfall of hair from a pair of closed, thick lashed eyes.

Only the arm's trajectory was interrupted by something that should not have been there, something warm to the touch, breathing a mist of humid air that brushed against the curling fingers. The fingers instantly reached out and dug deeply into the intrusive neck the air was so insolently escaping from.

"Vergil…is-this-really-necessary?" the raspy wheeze cleared the blurry mind and two arctic blue eyes snapped open, barely seeing through the thick white curtain that was so annoyingly _still_ in the way.

"You!" Vergil made no effort to stop the irritated, deep growl from tearing out of his throat and squeezed his fingers together even more, adding a clench of his jaw. A warm hand wrapped firmly around his wrist and with some considerable effort and skilful manoeuvring broke off Vergil's singlehanded chokehold.

"And who do you think it would be! The babe?" Dante rubbed the stinging skin on his neck, and snapped his jaw back and forth before his lips prolonged into a wide smirk.

Vergil quickly ran his hand over his head, dipping down his fingers to unveil his obscured face. "I expected no one. I sleep alone," a sleepy low grumble was forced through his lips, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

"Awww! Not surprising since you strangle everyone who gets close to death," the younger twin taunted, his hand that reached out to Vergil's neck to return the pleasant favour was rapidly swatted away.

"That is why I let no one close!" he snapped back with a note of anger but the grin that morphed into a saggy, dumbfounded look on Dante's face made Vergil readjust his tone from snappy to didactic. "Why do you insist on clinging to your childish mannerisms that only proved counter-effective in the past? Don't you have better matters to entertain yourself with other than being bothersome in the most eccentric way?"

A blank stare followed. "Would you mind? I forgot to bring my Vergil translator," the grin returned, only more sheepish.

Vergil sighed, deeply. "Care to explain what you are doing in my bed?"

"Well, seriously your sofa was giving me kinks I never even knew existed and I couldn't crash land in your spare bedroom cause you said no shooting _into_ guests in your house, right?"

"What!? Why would you want to shoot the girl," Vergil shook his head sharply, closing his eyes in a bewildered frown. "Would you care to make sense?"

"Oh forget it, _you_ wouldn't understand," Dante propped himself on his elbow and waved his hand, letting the light duvet slide off his baby-smooth chest to Vergil's undisclosed discomfort. "The girl wasn't quite in the mood anyway, almost spooked by something if you ask me before she chose to sleep in the spare room, surprising really after being so eager to get on top of you last night. I mean saying that her bedroom was too cold to warm up before going to bed was such a poor excuse!" he stretched his mouth into an irritating, know-it-all grin, adding a wide yawn.

"I would not be _so eager_ to make such hypocritical statements. May I point out the simple fact that you are actually the one who currently occupies my bed! Half naked!" Vergil stated coolly cocking up an eyebrow, making sure to pull up the duvet all the way to his neck as he had taken to the habit of sleeping only in his skin-hugging black satin boxers. It was simply too hot otherwise and he had discovered that the feel of the soft bedding directly on his skin helped him relax and fall asleep a lot easier.

"Sure, _but_, I only do it to annoy you, so there is a big difference," Dante's grin grew to immense proportions, "And you are wrong on the second account too, I am naked _fully_," he wiggled his brows teasingly as he wise-cracked and his hand shot out to grab the covers and pull them off Vergil in one smooth movement. The older brother retaliated in a split millisecond.

Dante saw the flying pillow too late and it hit him square on, his grinning face moulding into the goosy softness as he tipped over the edge of the bed and landed painfully on his shoulders on the hardwood floor, his feet dangling helplessly in the air.

"Get out and stay o…," Vergil propped himself up and leaned forward to peek at Dante as he disappeared from view but the pillow came flying back, smothering his last word into a muffled mutter before sliding teasingly slow down his scowling face.

"Now you die!" It was more like a thundering rumble than a human voice as Vergil grabbed a pillow in each hand with the intention of using them to hammer Dante to the floor. Only the younger twin meanwhile jumped back to his feet and armed himself with his own set of pillows from the other side of the bed.

"Don't bet on it!" Dante drew his lips into a battle smirk, holding the pillows up like massive bear paws. "Show me what you've g…"

He never got to finish his taunt as the trapped goose down came crashing from both sides with hellish force, smashing into his temples, again and again in a rapid succession. Seeing nothing but a languid dance of yellow stars in front of his hazy eyes, Dante began to counterattack by blindly swinging his padded hands around in a hope of hitting the vicious yet somewhat incredibly soft assailant.

Within a minute the immaculately kept bed was more in semblance to a winter's day roman battlefield, engulfed in a frenzy of movement, a blur of sweat covered muscles and flying artillery, accompanied by formidable battle cries and muffled growling, all amidst a sea of slowly falling snow in the form of white goose feathers.

"That's more like it! I was…beginning to…pfff…question your existence!" Dante yelled out in between precisely delivered blows to his statically charged head, spitting out a small, particularly clingy feather.

"You annoy me…and therefore…I exist," came back as an irritated snarl, seemingly from all sides as Vergil easily dodged his brother's sloppy, uncalculated attacks.

"Sooo, all I need to do is…keep annoying you?" Dante instantly regretted his impetuous habit of opening his mouth to display a wide grin as a pillow was instantly slammed into his face, sending a whole fleet of tickly feathers right into his moist cavity.

Busy trying to spit out the terribly unappetising pillow stuffing Dante forgot to keep up his defences and was ruthlessly hammered face down into the silky bedding right between Vergil's thighs, his backside pointing shamelessly at the heavens, or rather at the vaulted ceiling. The said part of anatomy was about to be acquainted with the same merciless treatment, when Vergil's eyes strayed to the door in an alert to the vague feeling of something slightly amiss.

Breathing heavily and erratically, Vergil held the nearly empty pillow case high in the air, his hand hovering precariously above Dante's protruding buttocks, as his gaze came to a halt upon seeing a fully dressed figure propped up against the doorframe.

Barely holding in the laughter with a hand clasped to her reddening face that was ready to burst, Vesta watched with mesmerised fascination as Dante's head embedded deep in Vergil's lap began to move. Dante, sensing the relief of a ceasefire, slowly unpeeled his face from the folds of the sheets and looked up at Vergil with a bewildered and a slightly miffed expression matching the tone of his laboured voice. "I fucking swallowed it…"

When Vergil wasn't responding and his face turned dangerously stern and purple, Dante followed the direction in which Vergil's eyes were so persistently fixated.

"Uuuh, seriously guys, don't mind me, I was just going to ask if you could give me a lift to town to get my…," her words drifted away at the momentous expressions on their faces. "…I mean…is there a bathroom around here somewhere?" she turned abruptly, looking distracted, as if searching for the said room.

Dante opened his mouth to protest his innocence when a very loud howl that flooded the surroundings of the manor house froze his words on the tip of his tongue. "Uh…shit…"

"What…was that?" Vesta slowly turned back, the red colour instantly draining from her face.

Vergil dropped the degutted pillow case and trained his hardening eyes on one of the defrosted window panes. "The wolves…," he drawled out in a dark, chilling voice.

"Verge? Aren't they supposed to _not_ come this close to the house?" Dante pointed out, looking at his brother pointedly for an explanation. He knew why they never came this close. It was the lake and its dark secret, an ironic paradox of a terrible enemy serving as their best protection ever since they lived there. The demons would stay away, too afraid of it, unless they were ordered by some higher power, dangerous enough to make them overcome their fear. Powerful enough to demand their obedience. The demons only came once before…to kill them all. That was when their mother died.

The explanation was given in the form of a hard, blank stare that only confirmed what Dante didn't dare admit to; his brother was in deep shit. It was that same stare he gave him when in his mind he had no other choice, a sign of silent resignation, like that time when he let himself plummet off the black cliff to the depths of hell.

Vergil's face remained rigid as he slid of the bed, grabbed the broken sword he brought with him the night before and with an unfaltering gait walked towards the door, unfazed by his overly underdressed form. He tilted his head to Dante. "Get ready…," Vergil ordered gravely, then puffed up his chest at the wide-eyed girl that licked her lips involuntarily, "…and you, stay!" His finger made a decisive motion towards the spare bedroom.

"Hey, what's going on? What do you mean the wolves?" Vesta demanded to know, backing away hastily.

"The execution had been decreed. They came to claim it. Should you not wish to witness it I suggest you remain put," Vergil spoke harshly in a frozen voice before spinning on his bare heel and striding off, disappearing down the stairs.

The next minute, Vergil stood half naked on the cool kitchen tiles in front of an antique, wind-up clock, mounted in the middle of the east, wood panelled wall. He brought up his finger to push the hands to midnight, then three and seven o'clock respectively, finally returning the clock to the current time. A dull, hollow click came from behind one of the panels and he used his palm to push it in and to the side.

Stepping through the revealed opening he found himself in a room that was adorned by the broken remnants of a once beautiful marble staircase snaking upwards from a badly damaged mosaic floor. Walking past without interest he stopped in front of an immaculately polished and intact mahogany cabinet that was pushed against a crumbling wall on the left.

Vergil opened the dark, red tinged door, eyes roaming over the immaculately kept, tall stand inside, and the shiny pieces of art that it was holding. A light twitch played across the straight lines of his mouth as he brought up the katana, resting it lightly in both of his hands and with care placed it into the only free slot on the stand.

His ice-blue eyes then flickered between two other katanas, assessing them as if the great weapons were very different, yet in appearance they were identical, both perfect copies of the broken one he had just returned. His hands finally reached up and picked one of the blades. It was the oldest and the strongest, crafted out of countlessly folded steel.

It had to last. It had to withstand the powers of the demons that came to claim his life, at least while Dante was there and watching. It felt like minutes as he stood there unmoving in silent frustration, looking sternly through the sword as if it wasn't there_. He will not know, he must never know!_ A deep frown of stubborn determination marred his face as he abruptly slammed the door shut and took off.

Dante hopped down the stairs, unwashed and unshaved, clad in his custom made gear, stopping on the middle landing as he spotted his brother in the hall. His stubbly chin received a good rub while he watched Vergil dress, which was rather unhurried and almost ceremonial, as he put on a silver combat vest, black snakeskin trousers and knee high soft leather boots, then tied the katana to his waist with a golden ribbon. Lastly he slipped into a waterproof silver trench coat that draped down to his heels, ensuring that it sat well on his shoulders and hung straight by pulling down the sides and tugging firmly on the sleeves.

Face expressionless, Vergil pulled on black leather gloves that were as thin as a second skin and walked to the door, addressing Dante without giving him a single glance. "Let's greet our guests, shall we? It is only polite."

Reluctantly, Dante peeled himself off the landing and stepped down to the dark hall, following his older brother from the dark, out into the blinding whiteness.

Normally Dante would be grinning like a monkey that had just seen a crate full of bananas, as whupping demon asses was his favourite entertainment but there was something off about the way Vergil acted, putting on his best clothes and even tying his katana like some high ranking samurai of a forgotten era, and all he could feel was a tightening knot of dread in his stomach.

It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the immense whiteness as the sun reflected vigorously of the snow capped land, the sparkly blanket creating the effect of a continuous gigantic mirror. The brothers stood on the frozen ground, their coats flapping gently in the southward breeze, their eyes scouring the vastness of the grounds that now seemed so small when crowded by hundreds of scraping feet.

Seeing the ranks of hell slowly approach, with somewhat apprehensive yet calculated, deliberate steps, most armed with heavy instruments of death, eyes red and burning, sickly black lips curled up to reveal pointy sharp teeth and mouth salivating with the promised taste of blood in the air; Dante turned his head to his brother. "Jeez bro, you must have really pissed off someone real high, real good! What the fuck did you do?"

Looking sternly ahead Vergil took a while to ponder his answer yet he never got to respond as the air suddenly pulsated with a violent feel of something even more sinister. Powerful demonic signatures sparked up above the moving wave of hell's minions, melting their dreadful, monotonous humming into a nerve cutting silence.

They stopped advancing, as in respect or in fear of the presence passing above them; whatever it was, the twins tensed, hands slowly moving for their weapons, eyes sweeping across the empty sky with keen alertness. Then an ominous, bloodcurdling laughter ripped through the crispness of the air, the brothers instantly falling into a battle stance in anticipation of an imminent assault.

"Sparda traitor!" a dark, hollow voice bellowed all around them, causing small mounds of snow to fall off numerous branches that jutted out of the sickly twisted, ancient trees.

"How original," Vergil scoffed in a hushed, sarcastic tone, watching the air melt right in front of them as if an immense heat flooded the atmosphere yet all he could feel was the biting chill of a clear, early winter's day.

"Well at least this is new…," the younger twin nodded towards the cloaked presence in honourable admiration, backing away as he pulled his broadsword over his shoulder, gripping the ornate hilt firmly in his hand.

"New…is unpredictable," Vergil grumbled in displeasure, stepping back with small, calculated steps, driven by the same instinct that his younger brother possessed.

Only instead of an attack, a sharp, deafening shrill resonated all around them and the ominous vibrations vanished into thin air, soon to be replaced by a thunderous rumble that flooded their attuned ears. The twins' blue eyes snapped ahead in unison, taking in the hellish stampede that was headed straight for them.

They stood in silent stillness where any mortal would die of fright; watching hundred's of taloned feet rip the snow to bare ground, skinless bodies heaving in a wild gallop worthy of a thoroughbred racehorse, exposed ribs moving in and out of the loosely hanging flesh in a grisly rhythm.

"It would appear the coward prefers to have his pawns slaughtered first," Vergil remarked in disgust, bringing his katana out of its saya in an elegant arc.

"Suits me fine," Dante cracked a mild smirk, giving his massive sword a stylish spin.

Standing his ground, the closeness of the unholy stench of hell stinging his nose, Dante lifted Rebellion vertically to his face and licked his finger with a wide grin, smudging the wetness onto the flat of his blade. Then a blur of red followed as the sword was brutally brought down in a perfect sweeping arc, carving ruthlessly through a row of tough flesh and solid bone. The bones snapped instantly upon the heavyweight impact in a sickening symphony of loud cracking that made the fine hairs stand up on the back of his neck in pleasure. Each blow left behind a vicious splash of blood that soiled the surrounding whiteness with brilliant red.

In striking contrast to the heavy and powerful blows that his brother delivered in a brutal, uncontrolled manner to the howling foes, Vergil wielded the light katana like a silent, stealthy whisper of death, efficiently and precisely. The slender, razor sharp blade cut through the air, flesh and bone soundlessly and with equal grace, leaving nothing standing that was not spared from its deadly touch.

"Woaaaaah bro, we are gonna have this sorted way before dinner," Dante yelled over the dreadful noise of the battle overzealously, his head lightly spinning as he had two demons skewered on the tip of Rebellion and deemed it a good idea to use the unseemly combination as a gigantic clubber that spun round to dispatch the horde a lot more effectively.

He had to stop though and re-evaluate his strategy as the current plan, no matter how fun it was, soon turned his stomach into a washing machine and so he chose to switch to the next best thing, and use his sword as a baseball bat instead. The stinky creatures soon found themselves flying in one primary direction, straight into the dark maws of the lake, the calm surface of which began to redden and turn turbulent very rapidly.

"Touchdown!" Dante exclaimed jovially, flicking the battered demons off his sword to impale some fresh ones. "Come oooon, why so deadly serious, this is too easy!" his sparkling eyes paid a visit to his quiet brother who was standing on a sizeable patch of red soaked snow amongst chopped up body parts a few paces to the side.

"I like it that way!" Vergil snapped back, feeling it harder to concentrate in all that noise he had to endure in a prolonged battle. He would have preferred to fight that powerful demon, a formidable enemy, and either kill or be killed in a much shorter time and in relative quiet.

Now he had to put up with dishonourable lowlifes and his petulant, irksome brother all the while gradually losing control and getting more and more reckless. It was the anger, rising with every cut that sent that foul scarlet liquid on his face and on his clothes, at least it slid easily down his treated coat as if it was made of wax. Shame his rising fury could not do the same as it made his attacks less controlled and efficient, and he almost lost it at one point, letting the scum come within a hairs width of chewing off his fingers and taking out his eye again.

"You might like it more enjoying it," Dante grinned disappointedly, batting six demons high into heavens, then performing his special baseball dance-off.

"Perhaps I might, if you would care to cut out the mindless chitchat and the rest of the…crap," the older brother growled irritably, feeling his hand starting to shake as Dante so blatantly failed to accommodate his hinted request. He even didn't have the energy to think of proper words dammit!

"Hey check it out, they are so retreating!" he shouted at the scattering crowd, making a gloating pose with his broadsword thrown casually over his shoulder, missing the creeping dark shadow that snatched one flying demon right from mid air and yanked it brutally under water.

"That's right! Dante is my name and whupping ass is my game! So you just run, pretty pansies!!" He sheathed the sword to give them two pointed fingers that he wiggled at them in the air but nearly rammed one up his eye as something grabbed his feet and he found them swept from under him with a tremendous force.

"Ahhh, that miserable oversized barracuda wants to eat me!" Dante protested as he cracked his head back to see what had got him.

"My sincere condolences…to the hapless fish…," a bored, dark voice drawled from Dante's right. The younger twin drew his brows close and propped his chin with the palm of his hand as he was dragged across the snow like a heavy sledge towards the lake, giving Vergil a somewhat miffed look.

"Soooo, you ain't gonna rescue me?" Dante put on a pout, tapping his gloved fingers on the frozen crystals of the snow in resentment. He was digging his elbow into the ground to slow the drag down which caused the bewildered tentacle to tug harder, to no avail.

"Why do you find it necessary to add a nonsensical commentary to everything you do? Would it be too much to ask for you to refrain from such annoying habits at least during a fight?" Vergil turned to his brother as he nonchalantly swiped the head off the last screeching creature that ran past. Making no effort to help Dante, he flicked the blade to the side with a deft movement, sending perfect droplets of crimson spraying over the dark red snow.

"What fight? They are all leaving!" Dante protested in exhibited frustration, taking a split second to tear Rebellion off his back to hack off the slimy limb that remained wiggling after it had been severed. "Ewww, that's just fucking disgusting!" he stuck out his tongue as he pulled at the piece of chopped of rancid black tendril from his ankles, trying to flick it away with the massive sword.

Meantime, unbeknownst to them, a pair of frozen brown eyes watched, glued in horror to the window pane as the creatures that resembled werewolves sprinted across the plains of snow; that in their wake came otherworldly black ooze, slithering out of the dark, churning water. One after another the horrid tentacles snaked over the red snow fields, coiling around the dead bodies and tattered chunks of flesh, dragging them back to their stygian habitat to feed on the dead and to replenish their ghoulish ranks with whatever had the misfortune to be still alive.

_This…, is no hallucination girl, this is real… Isn't it? Weren't werewolves supposed to come out at full moon?_

Vesta felt her chest heave and her hands shake as her sweating palms slid down the cold glass, leaving a distorted smudge behind. This wasn't happening in her refusing mind, she had to see it for real, to feel it for herself, not just watch a seeming illusion through the window as if watching it on a cinema screen.

Stiff as a slab of frozen beef she sauntered out of the safety of the chocolate scented bedroom and walked out to the hall. Stepping down the stairs she twisted her face at a similar painting to the one that hung above the landing in her half of the house. Were those things real and were they outside right now, attacking the brothers? But what if they really existed and came at her? Then, if the twins could fight them so easily why couldn't she whack a few over the head?

She had always run away from the real, human monsters, and never believed in any others, wasn't it time to prove to herself that she could take them on just like she always told herself she could? Absentmindedly she grabbed the bokken, a wooden training sword that was hanging on the wall next to the painting and then slipped out the door…

Dante rolled over and flipped himself to his feet in one smooth move. With the widest grin plastered on his face and with his thumbs hooked in the loops on his trousers, he began to swagger towards Vergil, who was facing him and regarding him with a conspicuous expression.

"Never assume the fight is over until you are dead," Vergil said deadpan in a detached voice and closed his eyes in the hope of regaining some ability to concentrate and remain in command of his mind. He felt the signs creeping in like a malignant disease; the restlessness that bloomed into uncontrollable anger, the cold and desolate darkness that made his body shake, almost invisibly yet with detrimental effects during a battle, the cold sweat that made him cringe in self-disgust. When would this all end, the pain, it had to happen soon…

Dante instantly spotted the unmistakeable signs of fatigue in his brother's demeanour and posture, he was lacking the usual, impervious straightness and dead calmness. He was about to enquire about Vergil's condition that he began to suspect was failing, when he caught a glimpse of the boiling air out the corner of his eye.

The younger twin stopped dead in his tracks, watching with mouth agape as the entire horde of the wolf creatures from hell skidded in a violent u-turn, sending snow flying in all directions, and turned unanimously towards the stables, the only escape route left between the twins, the fatal clutches of the lethal lake and the menacingly swelling demonic presence that resurfaced right behind them.

The still sizeable mob swarmed around the small wooden structure, sweeping through like an enraged tornado, in a desperate attempt to get back to the shelter of the impenetrable forest. Only the best companion to cowardice in the scum of the earth demons was turpitude, something Vergil had learn so very soon yet it was what he had forgotten about in his deprecating state.

Vergil's dulled blue eyes snapped open, instantly sharpening as he pivoted on the spot at the sickening crack that the breaking stable door gave out. His eyes widened yet he remained rooted on the spot, unable to move, unable to see the carnage through the nauseating flow of the river made from the skinless, sickly brown bodies.

"Verge?" Dante ground out apprehensively through his teeth, seeing the expanding blotch of simmering air charge straight at his brother, who stood there morbidly unmoving.

Yet it was all it took, his twin's unmistakeable voice brought Vergil back to his senses and without sparing him a single glance Vergil broke into a mad run, the invisible demon swiping through the spot where he had stood a split second before. The slippery snow driving his feet slow, Vergil gave out a frustrated roar, drawing his blade to cut down the demons scattered in his way. He didn't hear, didn't see, there was only one goal that he cared about as each flick of his hand sent a head flying after another, absently and mechanically.

Then something swept his feet from under him and he felt an enormous jolt tear at his body accompanied by a tremendous wave of pain that washed over him, as he found himself flying violently into the hard trunk of a nearby tree. At that instant the sounds melted together; his ribs cracking, a barrage of gunshots being fired in the distance, a desperate thudding and the powerful, distressed vocal protests of his precious horse.

Blood boiling, mind dazed and spinning, Vergil turned his ferociously insane sights at the diabolical blackness that began to materialise and whirl a few meters in front of him. Rapidly losing his ability to think rationally he gathered himself painfully from the massive roots of the majestic tree and in a blur of liquid silver leapt straight at the swirling cloud, his katana piercing the nebulous outer shell.

"Vergil!! No!!"Dante bellowed out in horrid disbelief as he watched his brother disappear headlong into the seething black hole that began to slowly morph away. In full run he bounded off his feet a few paces back, arms outstretched at the monstrous demon, fingers bruising from the tremendous pressure he was subjecting the triggers to. The bullets turned translucent red as his devil power began to feed into them, hitting the outer shield with devastating power yet they just started to bounce off harmlessly as the substance commenced to transform back to that invisible, fuzzy air.

"What are you doing!? Come the fuck out!! What the hell are you playing at you stupid fucking bastard? Kick that motherfucker in his peanut balls right now! You hear me!? Vergil!!" Dante landed badly on his shoulder, his heart wrenching yells provoking unprecedented reactions, the first he heard, the second went un-witnessed, the third he never expected.

He rolled instantly back to his feet, clutching his dislocated shoulder, hissing in pain as he used the tree to snap the bone back with a sickening crack. The air began to heave violently as the beast became cloaked completely, its presence only detectable by the infernal sound it was making; a laughter, a deep, sickening vibration that seemed to have bellowed out of the deepest pits of hell.

"You gutless son-of-a…!! Come back and fight or are your balls seriously so fucking small you have to hide them in that stupid invisible shit, you hairless prick!!?" Dante shouted in sheer frustration after the trail of shimmer and dark cackle that the demon was leaving behind, pulling out Rebellion that he swayed in vain at empty air in his trembling hands.

A few paces away tears streamed down a paling face, swelling out of wide, reddened brown eyes. Vesta stood firmly rooted to the icy ground, clutching the bokken in both hands so tightly her knuckles were turning white, stomach on fire with that strange feeling that followed her ever since she left the city. Her entire body shook in tidal tremors, mind too slow to process what was transpiring around her.

She ran from what she perceived to be hell; and she seemed to plunge into something a thousand times worse. Eyes frozen with the unholy image of that gruesome chaos, those monsters torn out of the worst horror movies, Dante's desperate screams, how her stupid problems could ever compare… But was it even real? There were no real monsters, only the human kind, the pretentious, lying kind that she ran away from. The rest belonged to fairy tales...

The image reflected so intensely in her pupils was suddenly replaced as the ground began to rumble and shake, and a light brighter than the sun flooded the plains of snow in a violent blinding flash, causing her to throw her head roughly to the side while covering her ears and shutting her eyes.

_This is just a nightmare, nothing more, it has to be. How can I believe it? I will count to twenty, open my eyes, run to that ridiculous hallucination and club it over the head! That will teach it!! Then I will wake up and maybe, just maybe it will all turn out to be a just a very bad dream…_

* * *

_Anyone enjoys a good pillow fight? _

_Well, you know what's coming. The review guide:_

_1) Come on, make me happy, put a smile on my face and hit that review button! I don't bite! Much…_

_2) Go get that pillow and think of the times when the computer just wouldn't work! I know it has given you grief more than once, all those lonely frustrating times when just went - Gah! – but you didn't want to break that window! So get into the revenge fighting mood now XDD_

_3) And…pillow fight time! Whack it hard, give it all you got, vent those pent-up frustrations!! Go on don't be shy, nobody is watching!! :p (Have fun!!!) _

_Didn't that feel better? :D So make me feel better by leaving a review!!! _


	11. Dreams and shattered nightmares

**Dreams and shattered nightmares**

Dante ducked down, holding up his red clad arm to shelter his face from the wall of immense heat that swept over him, staring in amazement at the streams of steaming water the blanket of snow had been transformed to below his feet. Despite the clear and present danger he allowed his head to drift upwards over the crook of his arm, allowing one eye to peek out to witness what he had never seen before.

Further away from where the demon had vanished, a cloud of air burst into deep yellow flames, transforming into a giant fireball, sizzling and hissing ferociously, rapidly turning into a charred twisted shape that began to spasm violently. Deep cracks ran down its blackened outer shell like chasms, spewing out scarlet liquid that seeped out of its blistering core.

Dante lowered his arm fully but slowly. His eyes widened as he saw the burning mass of the powerful demon that was clearly dying, consumed by some tremendous hellish force, convulse and spit out a limp human shape. Then a torturous shrill ripped through the air, clawing viciously at his sensitive ears.

"Vergil!" his shout drowned to uselessness by the tenacious noise, Dante found himself running towards the fallen body, face set in uncharacteristic rigidness, warm blood trickling down the sides of his neck with his ears protesting under the relentless pressure the piercing sound was piling on like tons of water.

The warm water on the ground splashed around as Dante fell down, skidding on his knees as he neared the slackly stirring form wrapped in tattered, blackened silver clothing. Steam curled upwards from a pair of arms that flailed blindly about as the body in front of Dante turned, a faint sound coming out, that in the horrific noise, seemed like a muffled moan. "Shut…shut it the hell up!" a low grumble followed.

The morbid expression on Dante's face switched instantly to an overjoyed, disbelieving head shake and he tore the broadsword from his back, hurling it upwards towards the bleeding core. The blade cleaved the exposed, pulsating heart in half, unleashing dead silence upon the land as it returned to his outstretched hand.

"Better?" Dante re-sheathed his sword with practiced speed, then dipped his fingers into the thin layer of warm, sooty sweat on Vergil's forehead, and ran them across his brother's skull, slicking back the mucky, dishevelled hair.

A pair of blue eyes rolled upwards and under the sockets, trying to find a way to settle in the right position, finally finding an exact copy that sparkled with an unhealthy amount of merry glitter.

"Fuck bro, you had me shitting myself there for a sec. But deep, really deep down I knew you could own that fucker's ass! After all you nearly pawned mine, once. Man that was a sweet sight, you transforming inside with all those pretty fireworks, I bet that piece of stinking shit didn't know what did him in!" Dante blurted out enthusiastically in one go, almost forgetting to breathe. His arm instantly snaked around Vergil's chest as his brother struggled to lift himself up from the muddy ground.

"What are you…talking about?" Vergil growled out groggily, leaning into the red clad arm that was pulling him up vehemently. It was all plummeting downhill from the moment he had lost control and rational thought, and had thrown himself at the summoned hunter demon headlong without waiting for a tactical advantage, as he would normally do… Or did he? Were not his last thoughts very rational? Wasn't he prepared? Such an opportune occasion to end it all, in a battle with a worthy opponent, in a full view of his brother…_Dante would accept my demise in this way_…was that not what he was planning?

"I didn't…mhm…I feel so…conf-…where the hell…no, I am not supposed to be here…," his gloved hand shot up to press against his thumping forehead as the abrupt movement sent him spinning. Something had gone wrong, Vergil tried to focus and piece it together but his mind was slipping. That immense heat, where did it come from, was there someone or something else with the power and need to keep him out of hell? _How…how could it be?_

"Verge? You hit your head in there?" The concerned voice of his brother was trailing away, becoming distant, melting into the darkness just like the images of the world around him that his eyes were struggling to process.

His mind fuzzy, the voices in his head multiplying, gaining in strength and malicious impatience ever since he had found himself on the doorstep of hell, in the nebulous demon's innards, in the black void he had been falling into so many times before, only there it was real, it was hell calling to him, trying to pull him in with its treacherous trickery, nearly succeeding, closer and closer with every ticking second that passed so slowly in the human world.

_Do it already, take the step… End it and you will say goodbye, just as you always wanted…_

"Shut the fuck up! Shut you filthy mouth right this instant! I refuse to listen to you ever again!" Vergil yelled out, staggering in his brother's hold, his back welded into Dante's chest.

"Uh huh, a big, humongous concussion!" Dante tapped Vergil on the head with his knuckle jokingly yet with a hint of concerned apprehension. "That should just take a second to sort itself out…or two…woah!" his voice jumped an octave higher as Vergil's katana flew out, slicing the empty air in front of him like a manically empowered three feet of steel.

"That's right! Let's end it right now! Say your goodbyes, spineless scum!" Vergil hissed out in a voice so dark and spiteful, it slithered over Dante's skin like a venomous snake and Dante recoiled momentarily. Feeling the thrashing form of his older twin get away from him, Dante reached out, grabbing Vergil even tighter and pushing him back into him while dodging the shimmer of the razor sharp blade that sent the very ends of his silver hair flying into the air.

"Vergil!! Calm down! You fried the fucker. He's a toast! A charred one," Dante embraced his brother hard with both arms as he called into his ear softly yet desperately, having great difficulty restraining his increasingly frantic sibling.

To his surprise Vergil stopped struggling in his tight hold as if he finally came to his senses. Dante let go, feeling Vergil fall into deathly rigidness while holding the now sheathed katana slackly in his right hand. Concussions never lasted too long, the disorientation was generally only temporary, and Dante thought Vergil was returning back to his normal self, not able to see the ominously dark shadow that tarnished his twin's eyes.

Only as Dante brushed passed him to look into those stern arctic eyes, he saw that they held something terrifying, a complete void of any feeling, a broken emptiness that filtered into his brother's bloodless face, and he knew that something was very wrong. With a feeling of dread that knotted his stomach Dante turned his head hesitantly to follow the direction Vergil's lifeless eyes were fixated on; the damaged stables.

Like a messenger of death, a lone raven descended from the safety of a tall tree and landed with light grace on top of the animal that lay unmoving in a small pool of melted snow. The shimmering black bird blended into invisibility on the heap of the obsidian blackness, only its chiselled beak was clear as it dove coldly into the bloody mire. Its involuntary meal was however interrupted by a snap of snarling jaws that emerged from behind and the bird's distinct cackle soon disappeared back into the trees high above.

Dante's eyes snapped back at Vergil, only his brother was no longer there. Vergil was running, a flash of charcoal tainted silver moving in a wavering line towards the fallen horse. Dante's face fell. He knew it was going to shatter Vergil, and he was afraid that any progress no matter how small would go up in smoke in what was to come next.

Feeling like a ghost, an empty shell, Vesta felt her legs move quietly yet her mind lingered back at the wall of the mansion. Hands shaking like a leaf she lifted the sturdy wooden sword high above her head. Bloodshot eyes snapped up, maws expanding to reveal two crescents of scarlet coated teeth, warm blood dripping down from their pointed, razor-sharp tips. The animal being slowly devoured alive stirred from underneath, legs kicking out hopelessly in endless spasms of pain.

Her eyes burst with wetness at the unearthly scene before her, and her lungs pushed out a strangled, angered scream as the solid wood connected with the monster's left temple. Its hideous neck flew in a brutal twist to the side, and she heard the vertebrae snapping with a gruesome crack. The thing fell slackly to the ground, its spinal cord crushed and mangled by the crumbling bones inside.

Welcoming the violent rage that stirred inside her at the sight of the helpless animal bathed in blood being preyed on and ripped open by those disgusting things, Vesta let out a frustrated growl. She hurled the solid piece of hickory with the drive of a sadistic maniac at the ugly, malformed heads that surrounded the defenceless beast.

Some moments later, she was hitting only air and spinning uncontrollably like a defective marionette, her throat sore from screaming her rage out at her stupidity and at the lies she had been living with all her life. The monsters were real, and the humans were only pretending to be like them. She ran away from the fake to jump into the arms of the reality. She felt she could just go and walk right back into her old, misjudged life and face it in a brand new light. Fearless.

Suddenly she stopped, eyes falling upon the presence that appeared next to her like a gliding spirit. He stood there frozen like his own demeanour, his eyes like she had grown to know, now dipped down, blank and unblinking. His ever looming height suddenly seemed to falter as if his strong, dominant presence was somehow shrinking, and she realised that he was simply falling to his knees.

She never thought those eyes, those icebergs mingling with stormy water, could ever change but they did, exuding such torment like an entire blue-ice continent breaking apart under unnatural force, moistened dangerously with the birth of tears that were a lifetime overdue. Yet the salty water would have to wait much longer, perhaps another lifetime to be seen.

Vergil was bent over the hoarsely breathing animal, his katana left lying in the melted snow. His pale hand hovered tremulously above the torn out organs and exposed rib cage that used to be covered with shimmery obsidian skin, now broken and heaving as the painfully swollen lungs struggled to take in air. His dull eyes, hiding a pressing wall of pain, slid from the tattered flesh hanging off the whitened ribs down to the broken leg, and lingered at the blood covered hooves.

Vengeance must have taken out quite a few, drawing attention out of the stables by running into the open. That much was clear, for Vergil knew how the horse would behave, a fine breed trained by an even finer one; his father. And he would always protect his mate, he was trained to protect her to his death. A trait his father could never follow through…did he even know how badly he failed?

Vergil's eyes quickly snapped to the stables, peering through the gaping hole that remained after the door was ripped out. A scarred, white head was peeking through the wooden bars nervously, a disturbed, oblivious glint in the heavily lashed big eyes. Perhaps second chances had some meaning after all. Vergil slid his gaze back, his hand slowly trailing across the sweat laced neck that glistened with the most brilliant sheen. He leaned forward in the gentlest way and wrapped his charred silver arm around, bending his elbow over the hoarse black mane, the other arm snaking under the strong neck.

Vergil knew Dante approached from behind, the girl standing there still, both bathing him in tides of concern and compassion, yet he didn't want it. All he wanted was to be alone, in private with his sorrow that he considered his burden, only his own, dragging him into weakness that was on the verge of being dangerous to his own existence. Yet he could not fight it, could not help it, unable to calm down. But did it matter now anyway? He didn't care. He had nothing else to hold onto, and nothing to lose, everything was crumbling down like an old, dilapidated wall that was painstakingly pieced together from something that didn't exist anymore. It could not be rebuilt again…

Leaning in closer, his lips touched the delicately pointed ears of his dying horse, sending through a lingering whisper on a shaky breath, one that could not be heard by another. "Goodbye my friend, you made your master proud. Both of them…"

Then his arms twisted sharply, eliciting a dull snap.

Vesta brought her hand to her mouth to suppress a startled gasp and drew her head away from the heartbreaking sight. The blooded bokken fell from her hand, sinking into the scarlet pool of water beneath. It was tearing her inside, all that built up rage was drowned by an overwhelming feeling of dread that knotted her stomach, and she felt the need to get out of there, yet she remained anchored to the ground. She could not bear to leave, not until she knew Vergil would be left breathing, and for the love of life, she could not understand why.

Vergil slid his arms from under the limp neck of the dead beast and stood up slowly. Set in stone on the surface, falling apart on the inside, he nearly felt his numbed core shudder to pieces as Dante placed his gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Vergil…"

Dante retracted his offered solace, knowing that it would not serve its purpose. The best thing he could do for his brother was to let him grieve in peace and ensure this would not happen again.

"I will go and check the woods, make sure those fucks won't attack again. At least not for a while," Dante assured his brother in grim seriousness. It was all play and games for him, all the fighting, but when they dared to go as far as decimating his family, all jokes went aside. He would find out who was doing this and why, and the sooner the better.

As he expected, Vergil turned his back on him and began to walk back to the house, not dropping a single word. Head held high in a stubborn stupor, posture strung up like a steel lance in that customary proud way of his. Yet every single step Vergil took was jagged, unsure and soulless, as if his mind was shutting down, slipping away into oblivion, fleeing to a realm that didn't belong to this world.

"Fuck," Dante could not help but swear through his painfully clenched jaw as he kept his sights on Vergil's retreating back. It all looked so wrong, everything was so wrong. How could he have stood by for so long and done nothing? He should have slapped Vergil senseless a long time ago and drag the truth out of him. Only now he would have to drag it out of someone else as he was certain Vergil would not feel anything, even if Dante beat the crap out of him and slowly killed him.

His mind setting into a concrete resolve, Dante sidled up to Vesta, taking a hold of her shoulders as she stood there unmoving, eyes hazed over in thought. He took a few moments to gather up his words, a rigid line of determination forming on his forehead as he set his plan to motion.

"What you have seen today…I would not be surprised if you wanted to leave this place and never look back. I will take you to town once I have checked it's safe here but until then…can you stay with him? Even if he asks you politely to leave…," he hesitated, his hand disappearing under the tough leather of his crimson trench coat. "Take this in case he does not ask so politely," a sleek, silvery gun appeared in his hand.

"I…I don't…," Vesta peered at the shimmer of silver resting in his palm, its aura of taboo suddenly turning into a scent of clarity. How could she have not thought of it before? The simplicity of it all hit her mind like a runaway train. The best solution for dealing with monsters, for dealing with the other kind, was to deflate their bloated heads with a bullet. A piece of hickory was just too cumbersome and heavy to hold for too long, she thought, giving her bruised hands an absent once over.

An errant smirk played across her lips as she finally reached out and took hold of the gun. Her eyes lingered on the object that felt cold in her hand and she smoothed her thumb over the polished handle as if to convince herself that it was real. No more hiding when they would have found her eventually, no more running away when all she needed to do is to turn on her heels, buy a gun of her own and find her own justice. No one else would move a finger…

"Just don't shoot him in the head; that hurts like a turned down fuck. Now go, I won't be long," he quickly leaned in and pressed a wet peck on her forehead, giving her no chance to evade it. She was the only thread that seemed effective at holding Vergil's contact with the real world in place, no matter how fragile and volatile. She was the only one that managed to get closer to him, to get him to open up, to make him lax in her presence…like the evening before.

Dante felt a stab of pain in his guts and a slight prick of jealousy in his heart at the blatant truth that stared so pointedly into his saddened eyes. Not even he, his identical twin, was able to do that. Vergil shut himself off from Dante ever since their mother died and it provoked anger in him that he never let anyone see before. Until last night when he nearly lost it. And he nearly screwed things up.

Vergil needed a woman's touch even though he was not aware of it. Dante realised he had to let go of his own selfish feelings, stop wallowing in his own failures and hope that the girl's influence was enough to keep his brother alive until he could fix everything himself.

He faked a perfect smile to destroy the doubts he could sense ghosting over Vesta's mind and then he broke into a light sprint towards the forest.

She shot a glance after him, tucking the semi-automatic into her jeans at the small of her back. It barely fitted and she nearly yelped at the cold that licked at the heat of her naked skin. Yet the piece of metal gave her a refreshed confidence that she began to lose somewhere between seeing the lake eat live hairless werewolves and her smashing their disgusting shaved heads to a bloody pulp.

Vesta turned her head back just to see a flash of silver vanish behind the stone wall. Even if her car was there and she could leave, somehow she sensed Vergil would not try to banish her anymore and it was driving her unstably curious.

Screw her little experiment!! The dreadful absence of opportunity, the horrors her eyes finally chose to believe, the fresh psychotic thoughts running through her mind; it all pushed the fatal plague that was her unnatural physical need to the point of bursting. Her need to feel warmth and comfort in strong arms, to feel the rapid thumping of a heart that would beat only for her, to listen to careless whispers meant only for her ears, to hold the attention of ravenous eyes that would only see her and nothing else. If only all that ever lasted longer than a few fleeting moments…

She ran towards the house, her boots splashing in the scarlet tinged pools.

How would it feel to console him with her passion? How close could she get? Could she break through his ice to the point where he would reciprocate her burning touch? Was she even close last night? Was it too selfish, too sinful to take advantage? To hell with conscience and compassionate restraint, when the need to quench her desires swelled up to cataclysmic hunger…

Finding the door was left wide open she slipped inside, mind set on one thing and one thing only as she sealed the entrance behind her.

The coin would turn. He would be the one to back away from her predatory stare and nervously wipe his sweating palms into his trousers. She would revel in her domain of superiority and watch him cower before her. And then she would leave never to return, to punish his kind for their demeaning, deceiving and uncanny pretentions.

Only, what he had done so far was to hand her the truth no matter how much she failed to believe, hadn't laid his hand on her in cruel intention, instead pulled her from the talons of death, abstained from seducing her into a web of lies to then play with her and suck her dry of dignity and trust.

The hall was starkly dark, yet as she made her way to the lounge, her mind began to ascend into bright clarity.

He hadn't even tried to seduce her, allure her by a fake charm. There was nothing fake about him at all. He was nothing like them in mentality, he was so much more both in mind and physique…

…and he was there right in front of her, standing in haunting silence next to the coldness of the fireplace in that shredded drape of singed silver, his broad back turned to her. Just a stretch of her hand and she would touch him…

The gun slid lower suddenly, slipping on the pearls of sweat that erupted on the small of her back at the wild shiver that ravaged her body. What was wrong with her? She was never the monster, was she? How could she let her mind fill with such impure thoughts every time 'one of them' crossed the corner of her eye? It was all her fault, all her own doing! What was she doing here? He needed to be alone! _So stop it!_

His arm moved and a long high note played across the deathly silence in the room. His frozen body never turned to her as if he was not aware of her presence despite the quickened beat of her heart. A shimmery flash touched her eyes, it was so brief, yet a long enough moment for her to realise what he was about to do.

She never felt the rush of blood that raced through her head or heard the breathless gasp tear out of her throat, for her mind could only see the sleek metal of the slender katana as it sailed through the air…straight for his own chest.

Vesta did not think. The choice was made for her by her instinct. She didn't even know that her hands grabbed his right arm roughly and yanked him towards her, diverting the sword to scrape along his already tattered coat harmlessly. She never planned the horrible detail of her damnable payback as she pulled herself to his blanked out, ghostly face. She never even contemplated how he would respond when her softly curved lips pressed against his furiously…

His defeated soul was standing on the edge of hell, mind too weak to keep it one with his body. Letting go, it was time, the voices too strong, devouring his weakness. It was calling to him, pulling his arm to take the step over the deep, searing precipice.

_You will never see her again, never say goodbye for you belong to hell now, your body and soul…once you enter, you can never leave at your free will…_

They weren't even telling lies, not making fake promises anymore, so sure of his demise to feed their victory. _The end is here._ They would have him now, as a soulless shell for all damned eternity. Just one step and all the hurt would be smashed into a shadow of a mindless ghost…

His body moved to take the step, only an invisible force snatched him from falling over, grabbed his arm with heat that was more prominent than the one rising from the inferno below. And then it dragged him, fibre by fibre away from the hell bent glow of the deep stinking hole, snapping him back into the realm of self-consciousness.

His eyes changed as she peered into them up close, poised on her tiptoes. Dazed, distant, and crazed; first in surprise, then transgressing into astonishment, finally searing with deep blue rage.

Just a few days before, that single stare, that intense blaze of raw dominance and deadly intent would shrink her to a single cell, would turn her back to the womb, too afraid to be born. Yet feeling somewhat empowered by the touch of the warmed up hard lines of the gun pressing roughly against her skin, her sense of self-preservation fell upon deaf ears even more.

Instead of running for her life she leaned into him further, feeling his steel-hard body bend over the ornate mantelpiece. Her punishing lips pushed into his even more, lavishly thawing the frozen fury into a lukewarm anger.

Then she felt it, that invasive tremor in her stomach that was stalking her for some time now. It seemed so random at first but…it occurred to her that the monsters always seemed to be the cause more recently. Was it anxiety in the face of danger? Only now those unpleasant side effects failed to show themselves, in fact they were never there when she was around _him_. Funny, shouldn't she have felt anxious around him the most?

Vesta drew away from Vergil, her lips parting to take in a needed breath, her hot skin sticking to the tender coldness of his as if she had licked a frozen surface with a warm tongue. Apprehension gleaming in her eyes, she pulled away slightly shaking, unsure if she had done enough to sway him from his dark thoughts, or have done too much…

"Yet again you appear to have a death wish," his heated words drenched in restrained aversion rang through her reddening ears as a preamble to the sting of something very sharp she felt pressed into her neck.

Apparently his dark thoughts remained, only the subject of his homicidal intentions somehow managed to drift to her. Was he going to kill her for stopping him from killing himself? How ridiculous, and utterly unfair!

"In case the obvious eludes you, you were the one with the death wish hombre!" she exclaimed with a note of annoyance, her finger shooting out to poke him right in between the steely pectorals that were heaving so shockingly close to her face. The gaze that followed from him should have sent her reeling backwards but any fear she might have been gaining was rapidly being overshadowed by her defiance driven, lustful need.

"I have no such inclinations! You are overstepping the boundaries of tolerance I have been keeping in place somewhat inexplicably with a great patience; a luxury I can no longer afford…," his voice grew darker and dipped deeper as he spoke, his hand holding the katana pulsing faintly as a pearl of sweat slid down the side of his temple.

_He is mad, so gorgeously mad and dangerous._ Vesta blinked.

His eyes shut forcefully in a futile attempt to swat away the haze that was draping over his mind like a heavy curtain. Reality dissolved into boundless darkness that swarmed with whispers of brutal violence. What was real? Was it finally happening? Did he overcome all those countless battles only to at last to lose the war?

His body broke into uncontrollable tremors, hand squeezing the sweat soaked hilt as the last shreds of sanity fought against the infernal beckoning of hell. His eyes shot open again. All colours were bleeding into one, the purest red, glistening on her neck as the tremulous razor sharp tip of the blade split her tender skin. The one colour the blood of a demon would be so blindly drawn to, fuelling the inborn desire to feed on fear, to tear apart what was weak, to revel in a slow and painful destruction of those incapable of defence…

The savage thoughts slipping into his fading mind began to prevail, his hand stilled into a firm grip, ready to run the katana through the blue flash of her pulsing vein. Brought upon the weak as they would be cut down mercilessly, the fear would serve as food to the damned realm. Hell had him now and he would be its loyal servant forever…

Vesta found her right hand snaking behind her back to reach for the gun, her left hand rising to his burning cheek. Her mind lost perspective completely as she began to fall into her dazed and deprived world, a domain of her own that fed her confidence. Body tingling with anticipation, her expression hardened into a fearless mask. She was going for the kill. Her sensuous, bold fingers began to trace the grim line of his sculpted lips as she pointed the gun at his guts, as the last resort.

A glimmer of reality seeped in as a violent shudder ripped through the fabric of the thickening haze, diluting its powerful illusion. Vergil brought his free hand up to his face absently, feeling a foreign touch glide over the thin layer of perspiration that clung to his skin. Incomprehension eating away the bloodthirsty hunger roiling in his confused mind, Vergil smoothed his palm over his eyes and down his face.

There was no smell of fear to flood his senses, there was no weakness standing in front of him, only a stern, unflinching façade that he himself lost the struggle to maintain. Was he already so far gone that he could no longer feel it? Feel what? He was never one to bathe in the fear of the weak! So why was he so drawn to it now?

The strange touch shifted upwards, taking hold of his hand, pulling it down with unknown warmth. Lucidity trickling back into his eyes, it was then he took enough notice of those brown eyes so close to him, and he was met with intractable confidence fortified with calmness that began to feed his own.

The terrible closeness drove her mad. The taste of him still lingered teasingly on her lips, the dark chocolate made excruciatingly bitter with what she had mistaken for a rush of arrogance and prideful defiance. It sent her senses spinning and she knew she had to satiate her desire now, before either she would feel compelled to pull the trigger or he would kill her.

Heart racing out of control, Vesta let go of his hand and plunged her fingers roughly into his sweat dampened hair. Fisting her hand around a few smooth strands she yanked his head down and crashed his mouth with a sealing, unyielding kiss. The burning sensation growing in her stomach intensified into an explosive inferno that flooded her entire body like the effect of a powerful drug, melting the remains of her self-awareness into oblivion.

Drowning in the opulence of her own yearning need she dropped the gun as her fingers sought his body, lips coaxing the tightly pressed line to open in vain. She wanted to press her small form into the mould of his stunning, imposing steel-hardness, almost forgetting that she could have been sliced instantly by the blade that still separated her from that fleeting, irresistible salvation.

The black haze shook violently and an ear splitting scream ripped through Vergil's head, the pain so fierce it made him lose his grip on the white bound hilt. The loud clank of the falling metal felt like a soft tang of a pin against the deafening roar grinding through his every nerve. His hands shot out to grab her shoulders, pushing her away from him harshly as his body fought subconsciously against the avalanche of pain that hurled over him with tremendous force.

The loss of her lips cut the pain in half so sharply, Vergil almost lost his balance at the sudden change that sent his head into a turbulent spin. It was enough for him to comprehend what was happening. Even hell could make mistakes, falling under the false illusion that a relief of extreme torture would elicit enough of a temptation to stand down, only for him, it served the opposite. The pain cleared his senses and made him feel alive; it was the only thing that was real to him.

The last remains of delusion clung desperately, ferociously to those deep pools of blue that began to regain focus solely on her. She regarded him expectantly in turn, her lustrous hazelnut eyes hanging in dazed consternation on every curve and nuance of his strikingly handsome, torment roughened face. All he could see were her sensually parted, desire bruised lips. Her lips were his pain and he needed more…

His deeply engraved survival instinct taking over, Vergil flung her against the wall and ignoring the surprised whimper that slipped out of her throat, pinned her hands above her, dishevelling her hair.

His opening lips flashed before her eyes prior to descending with brutal assertion onto hers, crashing her with excruciating, merciless force. The hardness she longed to be feeling under her fingertips pressed against her in full length, trapping her soft form entirely between him and the cold flatness of the wood panelled wall. She felt every single curve, every muscle, every hard line and all the warm softness of him welded firmly into her, crammed into her soft angles.

_Well finally some real attention! _

Vesta didn't predict this sudden turn at all, no matter how much she had hoped for it. The heated and impetuous abandon of his icy, reserved demeanour took her breath away.

Her prideful dominance in the realms of intimacy and sexual physicality was completely stolen by the suffocating strength he was imposing on her with devastating sensuality and brutal passion. Vesta was used to rough treatment, the only form of false attention she normally received and came to expect from the kind she was so blindly attracted to. Yet their passions always remained frozen and reserved just like anything else they did. It became a part of her addiction and she secretly craved it, remaining in control at all times, letting them think they were the ones dictating the terms and pulling the strings.

But Vergil was something else entirely. The moment he had _seen_ her, really seen her, he had transformed completely. The raw power and complete possession she felt crushing her was very real, tamed down by traces of awakened passion that struggled to bleed through the walls of cruelty. Somewhere inside laid imprisoned tenderness screaming in desperation to be released. The brutality didn't seem his, it seemed imposed by something else, a desolate urgency that made him forget his own strength… His eyes shut so tightly…was he in pain?

Shameful or not the thought of pain turned her on even more, and she closed her eyes in the sweet delusion, taking in the flood of ecstasy brought upon by his unquestionable superiority and exquisitely strong maleness.

His muscle-bound thigh slid between her legs demandingly and urgently, pulling them apart roughly, while his solid-steel chest pushed into her even more, entrapping her completely against the hard wall. Her stunned, fevered gasp was silenced by the savage plunder of his mouth, hungrily taking all, rousingly demanding even more with intoxicating desperation, making her respond with equal fervour…

Then she felt his entire body shake against her slender form as a subdued grunt of raw pain tore out of his throat and he grew harder and stiffer as if in defiance of the evident turmoil that was enfolding deep inside him.

Vesta opened her eyes at the feeling of the sudden shift. His movements were becoming softer and slower, his lips gentler, all the while the grip he had on her hands still pinned above her head became crushing and painfully bruising.

This wasn't right. It didn't feel right, no doubt he was in a state of desolation from his terrible grief and she was taking a sinful advantage of him! Or was it that she was afraid he would actually turn out to be different? Or more that he wouldn't? Was she afraid and unprepared to accept returned feelings that she secretly believed would never come? And what if they truly wouldn't come? What _was_ he feeling? Was he even aware of her? Confusion gripped her head like a tightening steel clamp. This never bothered her before. It felt so wrong. Her experiment was well over! Vesta felt an acute urge to get out of there but was completely incapacitated by his overwhelming strength. She couldn't move at all.

Wave after wave of excruciating torment gripped his mind, intensifying into more crippling pain the less forceful he became with her. Vergil braced himself for the ultimate battle as the black abyss of hell began to dissipate from his senses and he became more and more aware of the pleasure and sweet taste that remained trickling into him in its wake.

His sole existence was based on bare survival and the perpetual endurance of feelings that no one should be able to withstand for as long as he had. Was it a cruel twist of fate that he was given a chance to feel, to finally find feelings worth living for, when he was thrown headlong into a dire race against death?

Vergil felt his body shake at hell's final but vile attempt to bring him into submission, only he was ready for it, shoving it right back into its diabolical, stinking face. Only he had to hold her there a bit longer, his grip tightening on her throbbing wrists so that she couldn't get away, feeling the suffocating blackness break apart and slowly tear away from his mind. Then he would be free, no matter for how short a time until hell's bailiffs would regain their grip on him once more. In the meantime…he might be able to at least find and kill that motherfucking bastard that messed up his affairs. Whoever it was…will pay dearly…

She began to struggle under him madly, and he felt her body stop responding to the instinctive need that drove him to assault her in preserving his sanity. Just a little longer, and then he knew she would be gone forever, after what he had done. Good! He was thankful she would be going as he could have killed her with his mind driven to the edge of insanity by the crushing torment of hell's cruel burden. No one would be safe around him from then on. They were all better off without him and as far away from him as possible. The reaches of hell were so near now, strengthened even more by the powers of the nebulous demon that was sent after him.

Only even their powers had a weakness it seemed…

The pain was almost gone, the last tendrils of darkness detaching from his mind, and he would let her go any moment now, since she was finally so desperate to get away from him…now that he found himself lost in a strange desire for her company, needing her, wanting her…

_Why is fate drenched in such wickedness…_

* * *

_Um, I hope you guys understood what was going on there? Let me know either way!! Please?_

_My endless thanks to all of you who reviewed!! You really brighten my days of lonely writing :D Please stay with me and I will do my best to not disappoint!! _

_Now for the next instalment of the 'How to review' guide:_

_1) So, have you enjoyed the kiss? If so and therefore you are no prude, press the 'Review' button NOW!_

_2) Get a picture of that someone you love, like or lust for (mwahaha), and no exceptions! I know you ALL have someone, imaginary or not, and you can tell me who that was – well that is optional ;)_

_3) Place the picture on the keyboard, screen, iPOD or whatever it is that produces those lovely letters that make me happy and start kissing!! Ravenously if you please!! Don't be shy!! Work it!! Be inventive!!_

_Mmmmm, ok, ok, you can stop now…I said…you can stop…um…ok…ooo…please continue… _

_Sooo, did it work? ;D_


	12. Darkness falls

**Darkness falls**

Dante approached the entrance to the west wing in settling thoughts, his mind made up as to what he was going to do. Within what must have been less than ten minutes he had swept the entire forest in his devil form, finding nothing. The woods were completely deserted, devoid of even the faintest sniff of a demonic aura, not even a single hair of a demonic rat left behind. They would not attack again for at least a couple of days. That would give him enough time to strike up a suitable acquaintance in town that would divulge some information.

Vergil was clearly in some kind of deep shit that went way past some silly brooding over nothing, and was too proud to burden Dante with his problems. In a way Dante knew why; it was the way Vergil grew up. His brother never had the luxury of a childhood, since from an early age he was forced to become an adult and take care of Dante. And in protecting his little brother he learned to keep the worst to himself, fending off all the harm from Dante, taking all the blows for the both of them. The habit stayed engraved into him, and even the fact that Dante was an adult himself now, and more than capable of surviving on his own, would never change it.

Dante couldn't stand losing Vergil, his brother was all he had that was dear to him in this frigging world. It was time to repay him for all those tough years that had made him grow up so prematurely and harden into an impenetrable wall of ice.

_Now it's my turn. Time for me to take care of my big brother_, Dante burst into the hall, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn't even make it as far as the lounge however before he had to sling his hands onto Vesta's shoulders to stop her from hurtling right through him.

"Woooah babe! Keep your pants on for a while!" he clamoured, holding her firmly, causing her to look at him. Her eyes held a strong glint of fear and he could feel her body tremble against him.

She seemed so tough before, whacking all those ugly as hell skinheads like a babe on a war path, and now she was running away from Vergil? So it seemed he didn't ask her to leave so politely after all. Vergil was never one to hold anyone company for too long. After having to kill those that had betrayed him, any last glimmer of trust had disappeared from him completely. But the girl, Dante had hoped she was getting through to his big brother, only now that hope was vanishing just as quickly as anything that had ever been good in their lives.

"Dante! Take me to the town please, now," she grabbed the lapels of his cold leather trench as her eyes were pinning him pleadingly.

"Hey, it's ok, shhh," he stroked her matted hair, raking his fingers through her thick strands to straighten them out. He leaned his head down and whispered into her ear, hiding the panic in his voice. "You didn't have to shoot him, did you?"

She shook her head but it didn't come out very convincingly. Growing in concern, Dante started to back her into the large room, where he caught an eye of Vergil standing by the open fireplace. He was staring pensively into the hollow space dusted with ashes, bent down, his hands stretched out, holding the mantelpiece. Not even the heavy clank of Dante's boots caused him to acknowledge his twin's presence.

Dante let go of Vesta softly, his eyes saying 'just give me a sec' lingered on her meaningfully before he turned and sauntered warily to Vergil.

He was never any good at conveying compassion, the most he could manage was a pat on the back or a squeeze of the shoulder, and as he found out from his teenage years, women were sometimes happily consoled by a mind numbing compassionate shag which he was always happy to offer, within reason of course. But when it came to his brother he knew any kind of a non-productive nonsense, as Vergil himself called it, would fall on deaf ears.

Dante outstretched his hand but drew it back again, gritting his teeth. "Anything I can do?" he murmured, secretly wishing he could be on his way already to find out the truth and sort this mess out.

There was a pause before a pair of blues finally shifted in Dante's direction.

"Fetch me the shovel from the store room. I have another grave to dig out…," Vergil said loftily, his voice dry and detached.

"Sure, where do you want it shoved?" Dante let slip out facetiously, somewhat relieved that Vergil seemed to be back to his conceited self. All was peachy, for now…

Vergil recoiled from the fireplace and endowed his brother with a condescending look. "Up your uncultivated ass, if you do not cease pestering me with your nonsensical questions." He shot a chancy side-glance towards Vesta who was standing by the door to the hall, looking somewhere midpoint of a wall while biting one of her nails vigorously.

"Sure Verge, anything for you," Dante smirked diabolically, scuttling out of range from Vergil's wrathful glare.

Dante knew the store room was just behind the dining room that was adjacent to the kitchen. He found his way easily and spotted the shovel instantly in the immaculately kept storage room. Dante picked up the tool in his hands when an idea struck his playful mind. He never held a shovel before and wondered how it would feel as a weapon. Encouraged by Vergil's seeming 'normality', he afforded his mind to slip into the world of Dante's fantastic battles and began to swing the clumsy instrument like an unlikely sword as he swaggered in his most cocky way back through the dining room.

Only the inherent imbalance of the makeshift sword caused him to misjudge one trickier move and the sharp edge fell heavily against the polished surface of the solid oak dining table, hacking a neat groove right in the middle of it. Dante instantly panicked and tried to rub at it with his hand, knowing Vergil would likely shave the stubble off him with the sharp edge of the shovel for disfiguring one of his favourite possessions.

_Fuck_, he cursed under his nose, checking warily that no one had heard him and was entering the room. However, as soon as his eyes fell upon the part of the table where they used to eat as kids, his feverish attempts to smooth the crevice out of the wood instantly ceased. A large hole gaped at him, right next to some miniscule writing that Dante recognised as his, all smudged in red.

His breath hitched in his throat as he traced his fingers to the letters he had carved out over twenty years ago. Dante let out an exasperated sigh, remembering how Vergil always used to answer. It was always the same, and it hasn't changed even now. Mind lost in memories, his finger moved over what seemed like a very deep hole, edged by blood, made by a knife. What the hell? Did Vergil try to kill his food on the table?

Eyes closed, he was tracing the roughness of the surface like a blind man, until his fingertips hitched on a much sharper edge. It was a fresh carving. As he read the letters with his fingers, he felt the blood-flow stopping in his veins even though his heart began to jump against his ribcage. His eyes snapped open in stunned disbelief.

_Need help…_

So he read it right; those words burning into his eyes like the strongest corrosive. How long has it been there? Why didn't he notice it before? Pain surged through his guts that swelled with aching frustration and numbing anger. _Damn you and your stubborn ass Vergil! You don't need to protect me anymore!_ His fist slammed on top of the two words and the table gave out a loud moan as it scraped along the floor-tiles from the impact. He turned away and started to walk back to the hall, determined to shake it all out of Vergil now…

Dante was tired of walking around on tiptoes. If only he could turn back time and learn to be more mature. He would have picked up the signs and confronted Vergil about them well before this all spiralled out of control. Only he never had the brains for these things and in a way it was his brother's fault. Vergil had always taken care of everything; he had never let Dante dip his nose into the shit of real life, unaware that it would do him even more harm in the long term.

But how could he blame him? Vergil himself was only a child then, how could he have known how to raise his little brother? How could anyone know? And he managed to keep him safe didn't he? Confusion began to cloud his rage as conflicting thoughts raced through his mind, and all he wanted to do was to shout it all out loud. He wanted to grab Vergil by his neck and beat the sense out of him right there and right then. It was the only way!

However as soon as he stepped back into the lounge and his eyes strayed to his brother, his pulse made a sharp dive towards nonexistence at the sight of him. Taking a single dose of Vergil's murderous stare, he was at a loss for words that his soul demanded to shout out. For the first time Dante lost his will to fight.

It was an ugly truth. Dante could talk down hell itself, he could find words during a close shave battle with the worst scum of the demon world, scraped from the smelliest, deepest pits of hell, but for the love of himself he could not compete with his brother. That battle was lost before it even started. Even in his insane state, Vergil could always take him down with his words or a single hateful stare…

"I have been benevolent in welcoming you into my house and this is how you treat me in return?" his voice so chillingly dissonant and sickly cold it could freeze the air around him like liquid nitrogen. Vergil was holding his katana firmly in his left hand, the saya nearly breaking under the pressure it was receiving. The gun Dante gave to Vesta was held awkwardly in his left. "I believe this is yours…," he tossed the firearm towards Dante without care.

"Vergil…it's not what I think you think…," Dante caught Ivory expertly by its handle but was unable to swallow the bile that formed in the shallows of his throat, and he let his voice falter. He realised what it must have looked like and Vergil just voiced it perfectly…as always.

"I held you in such a high opinion until now…," he began dryly, the hue of his pupils darkening as a cruel shadow settled in his eyes. "Tell me, were you going to finish me off yourself when you sent the girl to shoot me, or did you think she could manage on her own. Now, why does that make me feel so…insulted,"

"It wasn't like that…," Dante tried to explain desperately but Vergil would not let him.

"Get the hell out! Right now! The both of you!" Vergil hollered out, the low rumble of his voice dominating the rattle of everything that was falling down from the mantelpiece as he swept his hand over the surface heatedly.

Dante stared at his brother in mortified silence as he had never seen him lose his cool like that before. Those eyes that pierced him back were soaked in disdain and flaming with the fire of betrayal; unforgiving and bitterly disappointed. The bile Dante held in his throat swelled up even more. He let Vergil down with his stupid habit of fucking everything up and it hurt more than all the blows and wounds he had received ever since he had been forced to live on his own.

It was obvious that his previous intentions would make things even worse. He had to go back to his first plan and kick all the shit out of someone else. God have mercy on that poor soul as Dante just ran out of kindness. It was his last chance to get it right. He holstered his gun calmly and propped the shovel against the wall, then walked quietly to the girl who was clearly distressed, her whole body shaking.

"Come on, let's go," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Dante didn't look back. He knew Vergil would be fine at least for now, probably resorting to large amounts of alcohol after he buried Vengeance. At least that would keep him subdued for a while. But he knew that he had to act fast and try to repair the damage that was done to his older brother. If he even could, and if it wasn't too late. Taking the girl with him, he slipped quietly out of the door.

"I am sorry Dante, I dropped the gun, I didn't mean to…," Vesta said in an agitated tone, her face twisting painfully as they walked towards the motorbike that was parked in front of the house.

"Don't worry about it babe, it wasn't your fault. It was mine," Dante said grimly, brushing off the snow from the shiny red paintwork. He would have laughed at the merry appearance of his red bike, capped with the white trim of freshly fallen snow. Only he didn't feel like laughing right now. And he called his bike 'Red Devil' which wasn't exactly in the theme of Christmas. Swinging his leg over, he turned to Vesta. "Now promise me that when I get you back to your car you will get the hell out of here. You are not safe here anymore," he caught her eyes as she was about to hop on behind him.

Dante could have almost tasted the ominous, heavy tension in the lounge as soon as he had walked in after his sweep of the forest. He would have sworn he sensed a trace of sexual dissipation dancing on the air but it was difficult to be certain. The mood had been so heavily interlaced with the scent of evil, he could have carved its thickness with Rebellion. It was so stupid of him to ask her to keep an eye on Vergil for him, how could he be so careless? It was their personal problem and he had no right to drag her into it. Vergil could have killed her in a heartbeat and it would have been all his fault. At least her answer and the fact that she was still unharmed gave him a sliver of appeasement.

"You don't have to ask me twice," she gave him a faint smile, sliding onto the back seat. _Exactly what I intend to do, once I have a drink and buy a gun of my own._ _Then, maybe, I would have a life again_, Vesta was drowned in thoughts as they drove off in silence.

She wanted to leave more than anything, remembering the foreboding look on Vergil's face just before they had left; and the way he had acted before Dante had returned. What had she done? How could she think she could mess with someone who was already so messed up? The further away she would be away from him the better, for his sake... with a forceful blink Vesta pushed back the tears that threatened to spill out, her hands busy holding onto Dante.

The first houses of the town appeared behind a bend. The sheep grazing on the fields raised their heads as the bike flew past like a flash of red. The wind ruffled her hair even more.

She couldn't wait to get out of there and sort out her own mistakes; or rather her one big mistake in the shape of a human. Just one shot and her troubles would be over. _Now, where should I shoot you exactly… Roman…_

The movement stopped and she subconsciously raked her hand through her hair to smooth out the works of the wind. Her car was right there, how Dante had found it she didn't feel the need to know. She just needed a drink first and foremost, and then a quick fix to help erase the taste of bitter chocolate from her lips and the tingling desire still clinging to her skin...

"Thank you…for staying as long as you have," she heard him say quietly as she jumped of the seat. "You helped you know," Dante turned his head to her and she approached him, her legs feeling heavy.

The smile that played across her soft lips was lacking all joy. She leaned in and kissed him gently on his cheek. "I doubt it," she whispered into his cold, wind battered skin that smelled of fresh strawberries and then pulled away. She loved the sweetness of strawberries, but chocolate was just that dark evil deliciousness poured on top, she was finding she could not imagine to live without. Shame he didn't seem to be the right type, Dante was simply too good a soul that would only treat her too well. But then, he was right there and he had the body worthy of sin that would send her straight to hell; just where she was heading anyway. So close to Vergil's perfect body, without the darkened, desolately tortured soul… She stretched her hand out…

"You have become the first friend I ever had. Goodbye Dante," Vesta ran her knuckles along the corner of his divine mouth, then turned away from him, about to head for her car, trembling with suppressed tears that his words had aroused.

A hand grabbing her arm stopped her.

She turned to end up gazing into heavily lidded eyes that still managed to blaze with the deepest blue through the narrow slits. The hand pulled her swiftly towards the bike, coiling around her waist. Her hips brushed against the inner side of a shockingly solid thigh. Vesta drew in shaky, heavy breath of air that was chilled from the winter's descending night yet instantly became warmed by her thumping heart.

Those sculpted, hard, masculine lips in front of her slowly parted, affording a pulse-quickening glimpse of a tongue made for the most sensuous of sins. Vesta was unable to hold back the rush of cataclysmic shivers that hijacked her body as she watched that excruciatingly handsome face lean closer to her. She felt heat gripping her own cheeks, and it flushed down, all over her body. The softest of tingling touches brushed her skin as the overgrown, ruffled fringe of his snow-white hair swayed close to her forehead.

Dante could see the subconscious woeful beckoning playing in her eyes. She had been tense and rigid, glued to his back like a strapped on plank, ever since they had left the old manor. Something _did_ happen between her and Vergil. He couldn't have quite made out the tenseness between them, but now he felt it in full force; the yearning inside her, unsatisfied, unquenched, downtrodden, like a feeling unworthy of notice. She carried it around like a dirtied red hot banner, and it was drawing him to her since the first time he had seen her.

"I wish…I could be more…," his lips hovered almost timelessly a touch from hers before connecting fully.

Dante could feel her desperation seeping into him on her ragged breath, drifting on waves carried from her trembling hands that sneaked around his ribs to draw him closer. He let his lips press harder into the kiss, languidly, gingerly, taking in her sexual eagerness in high dozes, his tongue delving deeper into her desire drenched need.

Tasting hungrily her divine, longing mouth, he began to pick up on the essence of his brother still imprinted on her vermillion lips, and the shattering desperation that it carried. His eyes fell tightly shut. Lingering on the sharp edge of pleasure and pain, barely able to fight his urges to let reason come to the surface, Dante found himself torn. His hands grabbing her shoulders, grudgingly, forcibly he restrained his masculine instincts and his lips drew away.

"…but it is not to be. Goodbye my friend," he pulled back and opening his eyes, drew his hands away.

His sweet yet masculine scent to die for diminished into the coldness of the wind that picked up out of nowhere. Stunned by the sudden abandonment of utter pleasure and abatement flooding into her every pore, Vesta stood there dazed, her senses wandering to the fireplace of the taboo shrouded mansion.

She gazed back into those eyes that returned to icy blue. Dante revved up the engine, the urgency in his narrowing eyes betraying the side that he had chosen. Vergil needed him more.

Vesta breathed out deeply to ease away her fragile, unquenched state of mind. As intoxicating as Dante could be, he wasn't going to give her what she needed. He possessed a tender compassion yet lacked the ravenous passion, the dark, bitter side she hungered for.

"Thank you," she simply said and lingered on his eyes before turning away. Then, as if she remembered something she curved her head back and cleared her throat nervously. "Dante? When…when did your mother die?"

There was no response for a while, his eyes roamed aimlessly across the empty pavements. Then he spoke, his blues gazing into a street that darkened in the shadows of the wide oak trees that lined it on both sides. "Me and Verge, we must have been like six or maybe seven or something. Yeah …six."

Her mouth opened but she didn't manage to say anything or perhaps her words were lost in the loud rumble of the engine as he sped off into that dark street under the oaks, leaving the smell of burning rubber behind.

Twilight began to finish its daily deed to engulf the cobbled streets and the greyness of the stone buildings all around her, as she stepped into the Irish bar after a five minute walk from her car. It was quiet, just what she needed to think her plan through, with a bit of alcohol flowing in her veins to help with the creativity. Just enough, but she still had to drive…and get her things from the mansion. Maybe she could just leave it all there, it wasn't like she had many possessions anyway…

She sat on a lonely, round stool at the empty bar, enfolded in thoughts, ordering a gimlet almost subconsciously. Her lips touched the chilled rim and she tilted the glass, expecting the taste of heaven but it only carried bitterness to her tongue.

Suddenly her plans for revenge didn't seem that appetising. She could kill him and feel free…until the whole state would hunt her instead of just one man. She tipped the whole glass down her throat, grimacing at the cold shiver that slid down her spine. It would be a murder and there would be no way back, and she would turn out to be just like them…

A firm, warm hand descended on her shoulder and she jerked away from the deliberations of her dark conspiracy, nearly dropping the empty glass onto the floor.

"I held my thoughts long enough, now make them come true," she felt a touch of hot wetness ghost over the smooth skin on her neck and the sensation made the fine hair stand on her nape.

Putting the glass down on the bar, Vesta turned her head back, just enough to catch the fire emanating from those bright robin blues that she had seen before. They were mesmerising, darkened by strong desire, instantly pulling her wholly into their depths and she was powerless to move away. Her perfectly absent stare provoked their owner to continue.

"Good, you are reading my thoughts… When you are finished, tell me what it is that I want," he murmured in a sweet voice that melted over her like warm honey. Vesta managed a rapid blink of her eyes and pushed away the drunken-like haze that swam in front of her sight.

"It's you! You left me here yesterday. I thought you weren't interested…," Vesta tested the waters in a half intrigued voice, throwing a shade of hurt into her tone for effect. She brought the glass back to her lips to sip on her drink in hope of hiding her irritatingly unstoppable excitement. Only the glass was already empty. _This isn't the best time dammit! And double damn! I need more alcohol!_

"How could I not be? Remember, you were the one who left _me_," he leaned in and brushed her cheek with his fingertips, gently pushing aside a few unruly strands from her face. She found his touch tantalising and that smooth, silky voice carried a wave of sexual tension straight into the depths of her stomach. Her whole body began to warm up and all her previous plans started to dissipate in a fresh storm of anticipation. _God, he is good! Triple damn!_

"Well I am here now, aren't I? But I warn you. I might leave again," she said teasingly, her curiosity aroused. Dressed in that suave look, dark tailored trousers and a white dress shirt covered up by a long black trench, he possessed that otherworldly handsomeness, almost one on a par to Dante and Vergil…

"Then we should hurry before fate sweeps us apart once more," he grabbed her hand confidently and pulled her down to him from the stool. Their bodies brushed briefly before he started to drag her out of the bar and Vesta felt every single nerve in her quiver in response to her insatiable need. There she was, drawn to the other kind again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it… He had such an aura of endless confidence, evil power and irrefutable dominance about him…just like Vergil.

Only Vergil didn't seem to behave like them, he pushed her away, before he could truly hurt her or be hurt by her. At least that was what she thought. But he did push her away, just like Dante, and the short passionate outbursts of both of them left her achingly unsatisfied, incomplete, and hungry for more. And she needed it right now, more than ever before.

"Allow me to drive, no disrespect but I believe you have been drinking," his lips flashed a boyish smile at her that reflected in his hypnotic eyes and he almost had her obey without a question. But the sudden possibility of driving somehow lifted the thought of her returning to the mansion and her mind began to fight it.

"Drive? Isn't there a place to stay in town?" as soon as her words slipped out she remembered that there was no hotel or anything even vaguely similar around here, and she instantly regretted opening her question to inevitable answers.

"Don't you have a place around here? I heard the old manor was recently occupied by a stranger. And…_you_ are the only stranger around here…apart from me," he said so chancily yet so self-assuredly, that a brief flash of annoyance mixed with suspicion crossed her mind.

_I have to do something or I will burst into nothing but a sexually charged puff of air…_

Vesta bit into her lower lip, standing there torn, while drinking in the rough perfection of his face. She needed this like she needed to catch her breath or have her last meal before forever changing her life. There might not be another chance to feel, to quench the famine in her heart, once she would go through with her plan, once she would feel the power of a gun in her hands…

"I do. It's not far, I will give you directions," she drew out the key from her pocket and tossed it to him. No matter how much the thought of going back there scared the hell out of her, this way she could collect her things and not be afraid that Vergil would do anything since she wouldn't be alone. Not that he would actually do anything to her! Did he ever? And why was her mind straying to _him_ constantly?

The drive back to the manor was excruciating, as Vesta had to almost force herself to maintain a polite, although at times rather suggestive conversation while returning back the stranger's darkly seductive glances the best she could. Rather than melting into a sweet hotness, her stomach was tightening into a knot of unpleasant anxiety the closer they came to their destination.

It wasn't right, it just didn't feel right coming here like that, to do what she was about to do, with him next door... What if Vergil saw her? Would his already low opinion of her dive down even more? Would he strip her bare of any respect she managed to gain from him? Would he condemn her ever more with that condescending glare of his? Would he remember her in hate..or at all? And why the hell would any of that matter? He wanted her out of there, out of his life, and she was going to leave very soon!

In any case it was too late to turn back now. The darkness seemed to have fallen suddenly all around as her 'catch of the night' got out of the car and somehow in the strengthening moonlight he didn't look like he would be too happy if she backed down… Jumping out hurriedly herself, she pulled him to the door and opened it rashly. Maybe Vergil wouldn't see her if she got in quickly, Vesta thought, her heart bouncing against her ribcage like that of a teenager who was sneaking her boyfriend to her room, afraid of disapproving parents.

At least once inside, she could draw the curtains and assume some sense of privacy. Her breath hitched in her throat suddenly, as she held his hand, towing him upstairs through the lunar cascade shining into the un-obscured windows. There were no bloody curtains! Damn, damn, and damn!! Well then she would just have to be really quiet…

"Nice décor!" he whistled approvingly as they passed the painting above the lading. "I could swear it almost looks alive," he sniggered amusedly, completely unperturbed, letting her guide him up the stately stairs.

"Doesn't it?" she laughed out loud yet her voice lacked all humour. _You have no idea… _

Gathering all her wits and confidence, Vesta opened the door into the very dark bedroom. A few lit candles should do…away from the window. Was _he_ even there? She resisted the temptation to check for the presence of a light in the west wing and instead decided to prepare the right atmosphere in her room.

Vesta let go of the warmth of the stranger's hand and reaching into her pocket pulled out a book of matches that she took from the Irish bar the first time she was there. Lighting a match she brought it to a set of thick black candles that were impaled on a solid silver stand on the dresser and watched the little yellow flame jump across to their wicks. In an instant the room livened up, the dark contours blooming into beautiful objects of vivid colours, their polished surfaces reflecting the candlelight like burning flames, lighting up the room evenly in a soft yellow haze.

"How fitting, a bed made for the queen…," he approached her from behind and wrapping his strong arms around her, he pressed his lips to her neck. She could swear that she could feel him smirking like the devil into her skin but his wandering hands quickly snapped all cogitations out of existence.

She began to drink in his divine touch and all reality bled into the perception of complete and pure happiness. Slowly drowning in the influx of sensual male attention, the life sustaining drug she was deprived of for so long, Vesta let her eyes fall closed in utter euphoria, surrendering to the wild provocation of her senses.

Through the smoky vapour of blissful intoxication, she felt the hotness of his mouth graze sinuously over the nape of her neck, the wet trail left behind becoming a prickly ice in the chilly air. Then the sudden warmth, it enveloped her like the heat of a fresh fire brought to life in the bitingly cold room as his whole body pressed into her, inciting her to the sinful lure of the dark and majestic bed.

Her waist enclosed tightly by his arms, her feet were made to slide over the brown gleam of the hardwood floor by the pressure of his hard hips pushing into her. Soon after her thighs were slammed into the side of the soft mattress and she was bent down, her face and hands sinking into the silky black sheets. Her jacket was pulled off, landing on the floor with a soft rustle that she barely registered. Then all the sounds melted away as his teasing, husky voice spilled into her ears.

"Tell me how you like it," he snarled sexily into her hair as he slid her fully onto the bed and leaned his body down on her, his hands gliding sensuously to her hips. He never gave her a chance to respond as he pulled the sweater roughly over her head and tossed it somewhere over the bed. "I would say you are the type that enjoys it rough, am I right?" his voice was gaining in depth and intensity as he twisted one hand in her hair and yanked her head back forcefully.

_How does he know?_ It was like he knew her; the thought briskly vanished from her spinning mind when she felt the thin fabric of her shirt gathered up by his other hand. She inhaled steeply, letting out a loud moan, her nails digging into the goose feathers through the duvet cover as he jerked his hand violently, the sharp ripping sound numbing her sensitive nerves with a searing wave of white-hot pleasure.

"What was that? Speak up! You like it rough, don't you," he demanded, increasing the pressure on her hair mercilessly while the palm of his hand pushed down on the bare skin of her lower back to pin her even further into the dark bed-sheets.

Her neck strained painfully as her head was pulled backwards; Vesta bit back a strangled response. "Fuck you."

She could barely breathe, the air was being stolen from her lungs as she sank deeper into the bed under his immense weight yet all she could think about was him tearing all her clothes off and taking her hard from behind…until she would feel it, soak in the pleasure, feel the love seeping into her every fibre no matter how false or how brief. It was to her like precious food to a starving child. Even the smallest amount would feed her ravenous need. And then, they would lay exhausted, in each other's arms, basking in the aftermath of the powerful explosion…

"Oh, I have something better in mind…"

The foggy edges of her adult fairytale were sent scattered away by the sudden, crisp chink of a metal ringing sharply through the air. Vesta was falling headlong from heaven to hell as her senses prompted her to turn her head, sensing that he was no longer gripping her hair. The surge of pleasure storming through her body only a second ago turned into a boiling inferno of fear as her widening eyes reflected the blade of a nine inch knife.

"I only want what is mine," the malevolent sneer he flashed at her was enough to give her nightmares for life but the maniacal laugh that followed sent her into a mad frenzy of sheer panic.

She kicked her legs blindly as hard as she could, briefly knocking him back, and feeling this she tried to scramble away, her hands gripping at the sheets frantically. But he snatched her by the hem of her trousers, yanking her back under him.

"Don't make this difficult, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear coldly, the flash of the blade skimming over the dampening surface of her eyes as she glanced back, fighting to regain a scrap of reason and find a way to get away from him. But his words froze any remains of rational thoughts into just one unbearable memory. This couldn't be happening! This just wasn't real! It wasn't…it couldn't be him! But those exact words…

Burning tears flooding into her eyes, her mind plunging deep into the horror images of the worst day of her life, she didn't even hear the horrific scream that ripped out of her struggling lungs. Only the sharp pain that seized her body tore her back into the bleak reality. It was happening all over again. He was carving her back…

"Why?" was all she managed to spit out at him before another surge of pain unleashed a deafening cry of desperation from her throat. _Not again…I won't let him do it to me again!_ Tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, Vesta ground her teeth and arched her back as low as she could. Feeling the rivulet of her blood that slid down her ribcage as the knife popped out of her skin, she rolled to the side and kicked him with all her might into his face with one leg and into his groin with the other.

Seizing her brief liberation, she dragged herself over the bloodied sheets and fell over the edge onto the hard floor with a dull thud. Hissing in pain she instantly scrambled to her feet and stumbling, searched for something to grab and use to hit him over his head. No matter how hard she looked however there was nothing there, and she already broke the vase! Then she remembered the solid brass telescope behind the armchair…

Unaware of where he was she took a daring dive for the window but her feet were swept from under her and she dropped heavily to the floor, hitting her head on the wooden arm of the chair. Heat enveloped her again and she felt sickness gripping her stomach as her vision briefly blurred, the rush of blinding pain that washed over her brain like a breaking wave, dulling all the sounds. There was a faint ripping noise as she felt the shirt being torn off from her chest completely, then a sinister chuckle that sounded like a distant cackle of a hyena, then a hollow thud and a sickly crack, just as the heat vanished suddenly…

"Get the fuck out!" a deep, dark, vibrating rumble broke through the surging sea in her head and a fear far stronger than she felt up to now flooded her stomach. She hadn't heard him swear or become this angry before and she had just witnessed what she began to dread the most. Vesta twisted her legs to roll onto her side so that she could look behind. Her whole body began to shake…

The stranger was picking himself up sloppily from the floor by the wall next to the bedroom door, his legs slipping as he tried to get up, his dark blue eyes seemingly pointed at Vergil who was slowly advancing toward him. But the man's eyes didn't hold fright or regret, they were narrowed, reflecting the sly, brazen smirk that played across the full length of his twisted mouth. The blood stained knife still in his hand, he produced a rasping sound that crawled over her skin.

"You want the slut? Well go ahead, help yourself!" he let out a supercilious laugh, then slipped out through the opened door, disappearing into the darkness of the hall. A slam of the door was heard downstairs.

Then all she could see was Vergil's back clad in a tight black vest, arms bare and muscles stretched as his fists tightened; so unbearably still and proudly tall, and everything melted into a dreadful silence.

After some moments that turned into eternity, his hand grabbed the door and slammed it violently into the frame. The resulting tremor traversed into her body. Then he turned and at that very moment her heart shrunk into a worthless piece of rotten meat.

His eyes were the coldest she had seen them, remote and dispassionate, yet ablaze with deep fiery disdain diluted by an unknown sadness and passion, downing her with crushing condemnation.

She was a mere grain of dirt on the immaculate floor stretched out in front of his uncompromising scrutiny.

She was the worthless stain that he didn't bother to wipe from the bottom of his boot.

She was the loathsome scum at the bottom of the dark lake left untouched by even the lowest of worms.

Perhaps that look on his face could even cure her dirty disease.

Only she wanted to die, right there and then…

* * *

Looks like Dante is finally planning some action of his own (apart from the kissing ;-))!! And holy cheese, what has Vesta done? This doesn't look good does it! Hmmm, I hope you can hold off your judgements…

Sooo, I will leave it to you to show me how to review this time!! Don't hold back as I will not hold back either in return! My utmost thanks to all my regular reviewers, you guys mean the world to me!! Of course I would like to hear from all of you that read!! What DO YOU think?? Tell meeeeee!!!!

Anyone still likes the review guide? Oh and since I got 10 votes for Cruel World, well looks like the sequel will be happening then…soonish… YAY!! XDD I will send a personally crafted planet size cookie to all of you who voted! :D


	13. Sacred secrets

**Sacred secrets**

The scent of bitter dark chocolate besieged her senses and before she knew it he had her pinned brutally against the cold hard wall. Half of his face was cast in the low, slowly flickering light of the candles, the other half remained submerged in deep shadows, disguising all its secrets and sinister intentions, like the dark side of the moon. He could let her live or he could kill her with a single move.

Yet the only fear she could feel sweeping over her mind was his complete rejection. He was the only one that had made her feel it, the guilt and the self disgust laid out so clearly in the reflection of his passionately gleaming eyes. He was her cure, he was the unparalleled exception to her definition of the 'other kind' that she was always so blindly infatuated by, the only one that had the power to change her ways.

But she wanted to strip that disdain from his eyes, make him see that she could fight it just like he was so ostensibly fighting the inclination to kill her right now. And if she couldn't tame that anger and hate, then he might as well finish her off now and spare her from having to roam the world with tears in her heart and a fake smile on her lips, seeing herself forever the way he had just seen her…

"You had the audacity to come here and defile my mother's bed with your…your…"

_Oh my god! His mother's?_ Her eyes snapped up to him in raw horror. This was beyond repair!

"…with a behaviour beseeming to that of a common…," he failed to finish, livid out of his mind.

The room froze to below zero with his words and broke into inferno with the poignant blaze of his voice. Vergil pushed her wrists even more into the dark, panelled wall, seething, his chest rising and falling violently mere inches in front of her. Vesta could feel the blood sliding down her back and spilling onto the wood she was so firmly pressed into, though she didn't show any physical signs of pain. All the hurt and dread filled humiliation, it came from his words…

Unable to formulate an answer, she stood there under his loathing stare, wishing she could tear his contempt away but was losing the battle to do so before she even tried. The words of defence were not coming to her rescue.

"Well? Speak woman!" he hissed, his eyes nearing on deranged, his whole lower jaw shaking as he leaned further down to her face. Grabbing her shoulders at the lack of her response, he began to shake her voice out of her.

"I-I didn't…," Vesta balked, completely stupefied, her hands falling down lifelessly. What could she possibly say when all she wanted to do was to cry at her stupidity and die from shame? "…your mother's?" her voice was close to nonexistent.

"You didn't what!? You didn't know? Of course you wouldn't know…you were too preoccupied getting yourself raped, consentingly!" he fumed, his voice was breaking as he began to slam her against the wall uncontrollably, again and again.

She couldn't take it anymore. She hated herself more than anything and wanted to be punished by him but not like this! He had the right to hate her and belittle her, but not judge her like this, no matter what she had done. Vesta raised her hands and tried to push him away desperately, each time with increasing strength, digging her fingers into his chest while yelling back at him with all she had. "And who are you to judge me? You don't know anything about me, you don't even know my fucking name!! You weren't here! You haven't got a clue what happened!"

Vergil's whole face suffused with violent heat at her last words. He pulled away from her abruptly, his eyes swirling with utter derangement, mind caught in a tempest of emotions. Vesta wanted to back away from him, fearing the worst, only she could not push back through the wall.

"I _was_ here! My eyes spared me _nothing_!! I saw _her_ despoiled of all her dignity and greatness right in front of me and I was powerless to prevent it!!" his voice was deadly low, spat out like poison through his gritted teeth, eyes flaring the fires of hell straight into her widening browns.

Vergil turned to the bed without warning and whipped off the cover soiled with blood that was barely visible on the jet black fabric, then threw it to the floor infuriatingly, promptly turning to loom over Vesta once more. "I couldn't even clean the insolent remains of her defacement afterwards!" his fist punched through the wall right next to her head and she flinched in shock.

Vesta stilled as her breath caught at the edge of her throat and she stared at him wide-eyed as it dawned on her what he had said. He wasn't enraged because of what _she_ had done…but because _what_ she had done had reminded him of what had happened to his mother. And he watched it, at an age no older than six as that is when their mother had died. _Oh my god, at six!_ How could he think he could have done anything to help her at that age? All colour drained from her face as she recalled her feeling when she had first entered this room, the sense of tragedy and a great loss, the dark bed as if left in mourning since…

Shaken, uncertain, despairing, Vesta reached her trembling hand up to his face. "Vergil…I'm sorry…" But she never got to touch him as his fingers clasped painfully around her wrist and smashed her hand against the wall.

"Don't you be sorry! You make me sick! You take what you want and don't care whom you hurt! Be it yourself or anyone else! And you fail to value what you possess already!" Vergil felt sick at his own words, a reminder of what he himself once was, and one of the reasons why he had banished himself into isolation from the world. Too many got hurt…

The air turned heavy and couldn't pass suddenly through the constricted throat into his lungs. He stumbled back in dizziness, his hand releasing hers, instead lifting to clasp two fingers over the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting into a tight squeeze.

Vesta ran her hands over her bare arms at the sudden chill that crept over her. Yet again he was judging her and it provoked her into self-defence. "I didn't want to hurt anyone! You think I take what I _want_? Is it so bad to search for what I _never_ had?"

As Vergil brought his breathing somewhat under control, he shot his eyes back at her and spoke more calmly yet in strong terms. "And what might that be? A slow, demeaning death?" he couldn't help but jibe, the agitation ebbing away slightly but still very much present.

"You may think this as a petty and useless need, but I never had the perception of belonging somewhere or feeling protected. So living and all this kind of bullshit means nothing to me if I cannot feel like I actually exist, even if it is just for one false moment that leads to a slow, demeaning death!" Vesta increased the pressure of her resistance, sensing that his hate was in fact more aimed at himself rather than her. It endowed her with a renewed hope no matter how small.

"An orphan?" he gave a dark, sarcastic laugh, deducing her background from his own experience. "That doesn't provide you with an excuse to…"

"I never said it did! You know nothing, and you wouldn't understand!" Vesta cut him off viciously. "God," she gave off an exasperated snort, "you even thought you could protect someone at six? Well you couldn't! I couldn't…," she trailed off and looked away, unable to finish what she had nearly confessed. The provoked memories made her angry in turn and she met his eyes with a steamy, resolute expression, her tone gaining in wryness. "What I don't understand is why you let me come here and sleep in your mother's bed in the first place!" a peg of regret instantly nagged at her conscience seeing him slump onto the bed and sink his face into his hands.

"I am not a lifeless toy, I need to feel human! I need to feel loved and wanted once in a lifetime…," Vesta continued in a more mellow voice, her burden suddenly seeming so much lighter. Yet she was disbelieving what she was saying, things she had never revealed to anyone, not even out loud to herself. And God, she sounded so pathetic! How could she not see it before? And how was it that his mere presence had far more effect on her than all the useless sessions with the so called experts she had been ever forced to attend?

His head rose from the confines of his hands and two blues the shade of turbulent icy water stared back at her. "You think you can find something so fragile and arduous in meaningless sex?" he drawled in a mocking, incredulous tone.

"It's the only way I know!" she snapped at him in agitation, hugging her arms at the constant barrage of coldness being hurled at her in all shapes and forms. Feeling her own freezing skin, she became fully self-aware of the fact that her upper torso was only clothed in her lacy, nearly see-through bra.

"Is that what you thought you would get when you were so eager to throw yourself at me earlier today? Did you not see you would fail?" he stood up from the bed, his eyes hardening with an ominous shadow.

"Then why did you return it!" she screamed out in searing despair. Something changed in him, the strangest twist upon his lips, and all the anger seemed channelled into something desolate and dark, far beyond her comprehension. How did it suddenly turn to this? He glared at her as if unable, or unwilling to answer.

Her eyes flicked across the eerie dimness of the room, searching for anything to cover herself up with, to hide her shame she thought he was being provoked by. There were some of her clothes nearby but she remained peeled to the wall in apprehension, worried that seeing the blood stains would set him off again. His sense of observation was flawless however and he didn't fail to pick up on her silent dilemma, no doubt taking it as a way out from having to answer.

"You want this?" he bent down to pick up her soft, lambswool sweater from the floor. "Or perhaps you are waiting for a favourable opportunity to finish what you started? Well? How about I make it easy for you. I am right here…," Vergil sneered darkly as he approached her, opening his arms in support of his invitation.

"Why are you so cruel? If you want to finish it then do it yourself!" Vesta snapped at him, her eyes ready to give out to the floods under the heavy weight of her frustration. He was right. She wanted him all along and couldn't wait to get her hands on him. And then she fell for him headlong, only to give him a true reason to hate her and want her to…

"What I _want_ is for you to leave! You couldn't wait to get away from me so why did you have to return!" the bitterness in his voice cracked across her heart like a whip. This was it, there was no defence left in her shattering soul, there would be no salvation or happy endings. Her way, the way that was forced upon her at an early age, was the only one she knew existed and she would embrace it once more, only this time with him as a relentless painful shadow at the back of her mind every single second…

"Don't worry, I will be out of your way for good this time," Vesta snatched the sweater from his hand and stuck out her tongue at him, the anger and anguish getting the better of her. Painfully, she peeled herself of the warm stickiness of the wood and turned away from him.

Now freed from her pressed skin, the blood dripped down the wall, only to be soaked up by his narrowing eyes. Why was he so afraid of hurting her when she was doing such a great job on her own? He had never seen such unnatural stubbornness, and reckless bravery that bordered dangerously on naïve stupidity in anyone else, apart from his brother. And she reminded him of Dante so much. That hidden strength and dormant fire… No one would have endured his grim hostility and dreadful bitterness for so long. Only his ceaselessly persistent twin and her…

Perhaps his initial outburst had been unjustified. It had been his own doing by letting her stay here after all, and she was free to do what she wanted. He should tell her she could stay yet it was desirable that she would go, no one could withstand what he was heading for.…even if she possessed the strength and willingness to take it. Better let her leave now, in hate, so that she would never return. Although, hadn't he tried that morning, to drive them both away? Hadn't he been convincing enough when he threw them out? Why did she have to come back?

About to send her on her way using a more convincing manner, Vergil whipped his head to her retreating back. He caught a glimpse of the wounds just as she was about to pull her sweater back over her head. His plan was quickly wiped out from his head as his eyes widened in shock, a flood of anger and utter disbelief overwhelming him like a deadly tsunami.

In two long strides Vergil rammed into her in an attempt to grab the garment and yank it back off her, causing her to trip over the tatters of the ripped off shirt that lay discarded on the floor. Vesta toppled under the sheer weight of him and they both came crashing heavily to the floor. A pained grunt made its way out of her oblate lungs.

"What is this!" he bellowed in a voice that gave her cold shivers in places she didn't know could shiver. He shifted slightly from her, pulling the sweater off completely with one hand, messing up her hair. Vesta sucked in a much needed breath of air, trying to drag herself from under him but he had her pinned down by his hips and his muscled legs that were wedged rather hard into her thighs.

"I should ask you that! You wanted me to leave, so I'm leaving! You said nothing about _you_ wanting to finish what I started!" she protested in sheer agitation and frustration, beating her fists into the floor. The sudden close contact and searing warmness sent her head into a dizzying spin. All she wanted was to get away from him and _now_ he decided that he wanted to reimpose her passionate outburst and play? Oh hell, who was she kidding! If only she didn't feel like crying again. _Dammit! What is wrong with me!_

"Who are you! Who sent you here!" he ground out in an insane manner and Vesta could swear she heard his teeth breaking. She ceased her attempts to escape, turning her head back in utter bewilderment and grievous disappointment.

Not only did he just confirm he did not actually want to jump her at all, he had gone completely mad. And to top it all, now she was left squinting at his right bare arm, the unholy lean muscles rippling in a seductive dance right in her face as he pushed his palm against the floor to hold himself up. _Save me dear Lord!_

"Are you insane? Let me go!" she resumed her struggle with twice the determination to get away while grinding her teeth and dragging her eyes away from his pulsing biceps to give him a glare she practiced so dearly on the painting in the hall. It didn't work on him in the slightest. In fact he returned the glare a hundredfold worse and it made her swallow involuntarily.

"I ask you once more and for the last time…who sent you!" Vergil growled out dangerously, and she felt something warm clasp around the back of her neck.

_Oh so now he's going to kill me, when I am finally leaving?_

"No one frigging sent me! What the hell are you talking about?" she breathed heavily, the intensive exertion beginning to take its toll on her. She felt hot up to her waist where he was so forcefully pressed into her and freezing from there on, the gash on her back stinging like an overzealous, clingy porcupine. And why couldn't he just let her go already? He didn't want her!

"Then where did you get this!" he curved his fingers, angling her head so that she got the idea that he was referring to the old scars on her back.

"I got that from the tattoo shop in town, they had a special discount," she grumbled at him spitefully, not comprehending why he was so suddenly interested in her ugly scars that she didn't want to be reminded of.

"Don't get smart with me!" he snapped irritably, trying hard to fight the acute agitation that spread over his face like a red hot inferno. "These have been carved with a knife about two weeks ago," his eyes blinked erratically to abate the rising nausea as they scanned the patterns and scriptures with intimate attention, taking in every detail.

"Yeah, they ran out of needles," she snorted bitterly, still trying to wiggle herself from under him.

"You seem to be missing the point entirely, so I shall explain it," Vergil pushed down on her neck, flattening her completely to the floor, and leaned down till his lips brushed against her cheek. "What has been imprinted into your skin had been sought after for two millennia and those who had gone to great lengths to lay their hands on it never lived long enough to come even close to disclosing its dark secret. Whoever gave this to you is dead and you shall soon follow the same fate…," he said in a deep, blood-chillingly soft voice that lacked any hint of sarcasm or mockery. "…so I ask again, who-did-this?!" he snarled into her ear and she could feel the heat from his face burning into her skin.

"I got it from my fucking ex-boyfriend as a leaving present, happy now? So let me go!" Vesta bit back in defeat, registering only half of what he had said as fatigue began to dim her senses. She was growing so tired of being told that she was going to die…

"How did he find it…did he tell you anything?!" his voice was now shaking with petulance, quickened breaths melting into her cheek where a drop of sweat descended from his fevered forehead.

"Why don't you ask him? The heck, I will give you his last known address and you can ask his stupid head after you chopped it off and shoved it up his ass!" Vesta retorted with weakening fire, finding it increasingly hard to breathe under his crushing hold. Her vision was submerging into blackness and she stopped fighting, lying on the ground and panting like a fish out of water.

As if on cue Vergil released his hold on her neck to use his freed palm to swipe at the dreadful perspiration that was so grimly forming on his face. He had to calm down fast, and bring his agitation under control, or he might just lose the best damn opportunity that had presented itself to him ever since his pesky little problems with hell started. He had gone such a long way to screw it up again, and this time he had the cure right in his hands, or rather in his house…etched in her skin.

Vergil lifted himself off of her and stood up. There was only one small irritable little detail that nagged at his unfaltering reason and had every single nerve of his ringing with an overt alarm. It was all too much of a convenient coincidence…

"I already told you, he is dead…," his voice distanced somewhat and she lifted her head. Light footsteps could be heard moving away from her across the hardwood floor. The room dimmed a notch at the sound of a short hiss and the smell of burnt out candle coiled around her delicate nose.

"How could you be so sure?" Vesta pulled herself up into a sitting position taking in a deep, long breath and cast a glance in the direction of the dark, antique dresser. Vergil stood there in the light of the last two burning candles that enswathed his face in delicate, fleeting shades of radiance, and for a second she wondered if it could have been a reflection of his true soul…

"Do not delude yourself…," he turned to her as if answering her thoughts, the shadows once again swallowing that undecipherable, unbearably handsome visage. "Whoever it was that you so recklessly allowed in, came here deliberately. He knew who you were and it was that he came for. Be it in an inhumanly sick and despicably cowardly manner…to skin a woman alive…," his voice drifted in a note of disdain.

A dark shadow marred her face as she awoke to the grim facts. Vergil was making a lot of sense, for once. There was a second when she had thought the stranger _was_ Roman, her ex-boyfriend that so kindly decorated her back; he knew stuff..about her, which meant…

"…which means he had already killed your so called ex-boyfriend," Vergil's face twisted in contempt. Humans. They called themselves human yet they could exhibit traits far more deplorable than that of the lowest demon.

"So I don't have to kill him myself?" her voice seemed a little more cheerful.

Vergil's silver brows rose simultaneously in genuine astonishment. Yes, indeed, humans were worse than demons, unpredictably so, in which case women in particular had a special talent. Still, he was left with a doubt that she was somehow knowledgeably involved. If she had been sent here deliberately why wait till now to let him see it? She could have had simply stripped in front of him, and it wasn't as if she hadn't had plenty of opportunities. Unless…unless this was all an elaborate act and she was involved far more than he could even begin to contemplate…

"You should not treat your situation so lightly," he said almost absently, half submerged in thoughts. _Just like Dante…so annoyingly naïve yet strangely resistant in the most absurd way. _Acting first and thinking about it later, or perhaps even omitting the latter completely. A suitable set of traits to pull him through his…what he got accustomed to call…'hellish moods'…

"Well it's not like I can do much about it now, can I? So if you don't mind, I will just pack and be on my way," In a haze of soft numbness Vesta picked herself up from the floor, grabbing her sweater. She pulled the said garment over her freezing torso, and began to gather the rest of her scattered clothing and throw them into the opened suitcase that lay on the floor.

Being on the run got her into a habit of delaying her unpacking and it had yet again proven useful. Staying here was out of the question as Vergil must have hated her guts, and for some good reasons: she did sing out of key to annoy him on purpose, nearly got him killed in the lake, almost shot him while he was kissing her, and now she got herself close to violated voluntarily in his mother's bed and thus soiled her memory. So taking all that into account and the fact that he was pretty much drenched in pride, she could understand why he wanted her out so badly. And if Roman was truly dead and now someone else was after her, someone who knows where she was, then she had no choice but to run again anyway. Only this time she would get a gun for protection. _Oh yes, just you try and come back then, you scumbag…_

Vergil squeezed the small flame on another candle with two bare fingers and it hissed out of existence, drawing the atmosphere in the room a shade darker.

"What are you doing? I need the light to finish packing.."

Her words did not stop Vergil's palm descending onto the last flame and the room plunged into near complete darkness. His black silhouette turned to her in the faint cascade of moonlight that bled through the window.

"You are not going anywhere…"

The moonlight was lost completely in the deluge of artificial lights that painted the skyline of the large city. The bright red of his bike seemed to have injected the only colour into the sea of gray the decayed suburbs he entered were inundated with.

Dante pulled over in between two red painted rubbish dumpsters filled up to the brim with stinking garbage and from the smell he could detect, a number of rotting body parts that were thrown in some days back. The back street alley was completely deserted; the only movement was caused by puffs of steam that swirled ominously out of the vents in the cobbled ground and the faint light flickering out of two sub-basement windows.

Blending perfectly amongst the garbage, unseen and unheard, Dante unfastened his broadsword from his Red Devil machine and tucked it into a foldable black musical case that he always carried strapped to the side. With his guns well hidden under the tough leather of his trench, he approached the top of the steps that had the sign 'Hell's Eyes' shining in half broken neon lights above them.

A small bitter smirk played across his mouth at the sudden melancholy that crept into his mind. He was to thank Vergil for teaching him the dirty tricks of the trade, despite now knowing that he had done so in the knowledge that Vergil was leaving; so suddenly after taking care of Dante and keeping him in the dark for so long. It threw Dante into the shit of life headlong and he had to learn the hard way to merely stay alive. It created an unbreakable shell of hardness and ruthlessness underneath his light-hearted exterior and he was able to call upon it when the situation demanded; unlike Vergil who wore it on the outside at all times like stigmata…just shows how much shit _he_ had to go through…

A deep sigh accompanied by confident steps echoed dully through the dark alley as he descended toward the basement. It had taken him nearly half the night to find this place as Vergil only mentioned its name once, never the exact location. If he remembered correctly this dump was supposed to be the worst and it was also owned by the most scurvy scumbag who used to have some dealings with Vergil in the past. This particular character, who lived on bartering with hell, had forced Vergil to teach Dante the most important rule of their existence: trust no one. That had been the only time his brother had confided in him after returning half dead to their secret residence.

Dante ground his teeth, resisting the urge to kick the door in and kill everything that moved. Vergil's cool-headed and calculated tactics however needed to be called upon in order to get what he wanted. As soon as he opened the door the pungent smell of stale smoke and beer mixed with the scent of human blood wafted into his nostrils. It made him feel sick on the inside, yet his composure didn't show it. Dante approached the splodgy bar with an exaggerated swagger and without puking, which was harder than he thought considering the state of his own place, pulled out a stool that seemed the cleanest.

"Hey, toss me a beer," he mouthed at the scowling bartender who calmly but grudgingly drew out a glass and pulled a perfect pint, not letting Dante out of his sights. He had a non-trendy black ponytail tied at the base of his neck and the ugly frown he seemed to wear nonstop together with the toothpick he tossed about in his mouth would not put even the dirtiest scumbag into shame.

The pint was truly tossed to him across the counter together with all the dirt still visible on all sides of the glass, and Dante caught it expertly in his solid grasp. The bartender was still glaring daggers at him and Dante began to wonder if maybe Vergil used to be a regular in this charming place. "So, wassup?" Dante passed him a dazzling smile that to his relief sent the guy away, probably to piss in the beer.

Dante then cocked his head just enough to pass a glance around the place. It looked just like any other dingy bar; a small space crammed up with as many filthy tables and chairs as possible, a dartboard that seemed like it was shredded by a machinegun, and a jukebox that had seen better days. But the clientele was where the difference lay. Demonic aura reeked through the carefully placed twitchy glances aimed at the stranger that dared to enter and Dante knew those mofos merely served as a decoy to the nasty dealings that took place behind that shiny slab of one sided mirror that backed the bar.

He would not find the one he was looking for among the fodder in the open, he would have to call him out. Only he didn't have to, as one of the douchebags just swung his ugly head to him and opened his rotting gob that was missing several teeth. "Yo kid, you came to the wrong place for a drink…"

"Ah, you know you are right, cause this shit tastes like piss," Dante pushed the beer away from him in disgust, ignoring the murderous faces that started to turn to him. "But I didn't come here to drink…," he placed the musical case on top of the bar slowly, "…I came here to play," he said calmly and the serene expression on his face began to shift into a smirk as his hand inched along the edge of the case toward one of the shiny clasps.

"We don't need no musicians here…," he heard a raspy voice say while his bright blues silently swept across all the fingers that began reaching secretly, or so they thought, for hidden weapons.

"Oh really? I heard that _Memphis_ likes to sing…," Dante's evil smirk was so expansive it nearly split his face. In the dead silence, the commotion his words created in the hidden room was heard even through the thickness of the glass. _Gotcha!_

The same split second an assorted arsenal began to pop out of the woodwork Dante took a dive behind the bar, sweeping the black case down with him. He pulled out his custom-made handguns, aiming them at the bartender that began to burst into a demon, when a barrage of bullets showered the seat where he was just a second ago. The racket of splintering wood and shattering glass wreaked havoc in his sensitive ears and he had to briefly squint, which didn't spare him from the view of the bartender being perforated like a sieve, flailing about like a defective marionette before finally squelching to the floor.

"Shit, I wanted to do that," Dante mumbled with a maniacal grin on his blood spattered face and turned his guns instantly at the shards of glass that were still in his way. His eyes narrowed and zoomed at the figure making a runner out the back. "There you are you piece of shit," his lips quirked up darkly and he kicked the half shattered glass all the way in to clear his path, holstering his guns.

"Adios amigos," tapping two fingers on his forehead he bid the still shooting horde a goodbye and grabbing his sword sneaked out the now revealed back exit. Dante knew the stupid fucks would not follow as they were only paid to protect the bar and what went on elsewhere wasn't in their interest; even if it meant the death of their boss who could be, after all, easily replaced, just like the unfortunate bartender.

It didn't take long for Memphis to reveal himself, he was no sly dog or even a half decent warrior, just an extraordinary scumbag with a lot of luck that was about to run out. Caught completely of guard and with no one's back to hide behind he tried to keep still and deathly quiet behind one of the dumpsters in the alley, forgetting that his breath coiled like a dancing cobra out of a basket in the freezing air.

The smirk growing on his sculpted lips, Dante flung his encased sword on his broad shoulder and swayed his hip casually past the container, stepping right in front of Memphis. Looking ahead into the dark alley he rubbed his nose and snorted.

"Hmm, I smell a stinking piece of shit…" The flash of a handgun registered in the corner of his eye and he kicked at it with his boot just as the gun went off. The bullet ricocheted of the concrete wall and the dislodged firearm landed on a pile of excess rubbish left on the ground some meters away.

"You can't do this!" Dante cocked his head leisurely to the angered voice, and his iced blues met with a pair of nearly black eyes flashing with rage mixed up with disbelief and fear.

"What! You thought you could wipe hell's ass forever without anyone catching the bad smell?" the half-devil dropped down to a crouch and in a flash had Ivory snuggled against the man's throat, leaving Rebellion on top of the container.

"You will regret this! Do you know who I am?" Memphis ground out and nervously raked his hand through his greased black hair. He then reached into the pocket of his dark business suit, apparently trying to re-grow his balls by smoking since he pulled out a cigarette.

"Oh I do. The word has it you had some dealings with my dear brother. That is, until you sold him out…" As if on cue the cigarette dropped from his fingers and he bolted upright frantically, seemingly keen to get away.

Dante caught him by the scruff and sunk the barrel of his gun even deeper into his jugular, pushing him hard into the wall. "Oh so you remember…"

"He didn't need to be sold out, he did it all by himself," Memphis wheezed out forcefully, managing to pull out a derisive sneer.

"I am surprised Vergil hasn't killed you yet. Maybe I should remind him…," Dante growled lowly, so itchy to pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off, only the information he needed was worth much more.

"Him kill me? He can't even put on his own boots!" the bastard would have laughed was it not for the barrel that was promptly stuffed in his mouth.

"Oh yeah? Would you like to tell him that personally?" Dante's eyes narrowed dangerously as he rammed the gun deeper inside his captive's throat. A muffled drone and a decisive headshake followed.

"Didn't think so," the barrel was pulled out from the wet cavity, and Dante wiped it off on the man's shoulder before lowering the firearm down to his balls. "Whatever shit you know, you better crap it out now or I will screw you up so bad you won't be able to take a crap ever again," he drawled threateningly, tilting his head with a maniacal gleam in his eyes that matched his expression.

"No need for threats…I will tell you gladly!" Memphis spat out the metallic taste that gathered in his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then his eyes fixed on Dante's and a mocking grin grew wide on his face. "Your brother is as good as dead anyway. You see, he wouldn't play nice in hell so they took his precious sword and stripped him of his demonic powers, then sent him all wrapped up in that soulless shell like an obedient little slave back to the human world to kill you."

Dante's eyes darkened as he ground his teeth, yet his hand holding the gun grew slacker at those dire memories he was unwillingly recalling.

Feeling Dante's internal pain Memphis continued with added enthusiasm. "Who would have figured that the bastard would somehow break free… Only picture this, he is completely powerless, heh you get the pun, and hell wants him back really bad, because once you enter hell you can never leave on your own terms. I mean how would it sound if anyone could just come and go at free will? If the word got out that someone near human had the balls to defy hell, it would shatter its ruthless, inescapable reputation. So it will try to drag him back, by any means, and this time he will be chained there forever as a brain-dead, loyal little guard dog…"

Dante snarled. Memphis laughed, "I have to give it to him though, I never imagined he would last this long…," he whistled, circling a finger near his temple, "…you get me? I mean the separation of demonic energy, that drastic and unnatural shit would drive any devil insane in itself, not to mention the constant invasion of one's mind. How the fuck does he do it, without his devil-lord powers to keep hell the hell away from him! Would you mind asking him when you see him?" he jeered, pulling out another cigarette.

Dante battled the urging need to decimate the smug fucker's balls with a round of solid lead but he needed to know more. "Is that why those demons are hunting him? To take him back to hell?" he growled, his teeth clenched.

"Hunting? You mean they are after him physically too? Whoa! That's just too hilarious in a crewed up kind of way! Guess he should have stayed in hiding since everyone thought he was dead, but nooo, he had to go into the open and start asking about his precious Yamato! I don't see why they want him dead so desperately, since as I said he is as good as dead anyway, but I know one thing; it must be something pretty fucking serious and quite likely very recent if they are managing to keep it so hush-hush and can't even wait for hell itself to claim him. Well, good luck then," he shrugged and tried to wiggle his way out.

Dante swiftly brought Ivory to his temple.

"Now easy man, killing me has no reason…Vergil fucked it all up himself by jumping off that cl…"

"How about this for a reason… you are a stinking, piece of demonic shit that talks way too much and gets on my fucking nerves!"

Dante squeezed the trigger.

* * *

_Oh oh, what is Vergil gonna do now, eh? The choices… Same goes for Dante, should he try and find out more, or hurry back to Vergil straight away? Hmmm…_

_Okies now, let's ALL review, I will take you through it step by step, it is dead easy:_

_1) Press that darn Review button – don't wanna? Well just imagine it is the self destruct button for the entire universe (mwahahaha) – there ya go!_

_2) Ok, now, think comfortable, and turn around. Now, slowly, careful with the grease and stuck on food (brush it off first ffs), let your bum descend onto the keyboard…_

_3) Wiggle graciously._

_All done! Muchas gracias to ALL of you who have read my lovely instructions and actually followed them ;D You guys rock my world and shake the happiness nerve endings!!! Keep them coming… XD_


	14. The cure for insanity

**The cure for insanity**

If what he had said wasn't enough to render her speechless, then it was what he did next. Vergil made a few short steps toward her in the dark, and without a further word he bent down and closed the suitcase. Then, as if it weighed nothing he picked it up using two fingers and simply walked past her and out of the room.

When she finally gathered her wits he must have been somewhere down the hall. Vesta ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, her hand gliding over the banister in support of the faint moonlight flowing through the uncovered windows as her only guidance in the darkness. "Hey, just leave it by the car then, thanks!" she voiced her thoughts into the void of near blackness.

Not that she expected an answer but the lack of it still miffed her and made her speed up down the stairs and out of the door. What was he doing? Didn't he want her out of here? She could still pretty much taste his anger when he had bid her, and Dante, to get out of the house only hours earlier, and then even more so only minutes ago after he had found her bleeding in his mother's bedroom. Maybe he just left her suitcase by the car and walked away? Skidding to a halt on the slippery gravel outside, her eyes swayed to his retreating back and then dipped down to spy her suitcase that _was_ still dangling from his fingers.

"Vergil? Ok, that's really funny and all, but can I have my things back now?" she called after him, her breath erratic from the compounded confusion and fatigue.

"Come with me if you want to live," he responded impassively without stopping or even glancing back.

Vesta took off after him, growing frustration compelling her to say things she regretted almost as soon as they slipped out.

"You kidding me? Are you suggesting I would be safe with a suicidal nutcase who had no qualms beheading random strangers samurai style and had a serious inclination to kill me what, twice already?" Vesta flared out whole-heartedly, eyes peering at the back of his neck. As she caught up with him at the end of her speech, he stopped so suddenly she nearly walked into him.

"Only twice?" His brows shot up briefly in amusement. _That inclination never once left me my dear…_

Grouching inwardly, he dropped the suitcase down and slowly turning he started to back away to the door that was only a few paces behind him. "By all means, take your things and go, if you think a nutcase like me…as you so adeptly put it…who did not actually come to harm you once, would be worse than those who so closely succeeded in skinning you alive…," he drawled glibly, the corner of his mouth running aside in slight evilness to create a little cute crease in his perfect, porcelain-like skin.

Agitated to no end by that smug face, Vesta took in a long breath in retaliation but realised she didn't have anything to retaliate with so just exhaled empty air. Satisfied by her lack of objections, Vergil sauntered back to her luggage and silently picked it up with a triumphant glint in his eyes, adding a mocking bow.

"Oh stuff it!" she snapped irritably, but then bit on her lip. "If what you said is true then I have to go, they know where I am now…," a hesitant and unsure voice followed him to the door.

"Yes. They found you in less than a week in a place that has been hidden for years, do you really think you can hide from them elsewhere?" his sarcastic tone faded into a statement of mere fact as he opened the door, ready to step in.

"Maybe not, but I will get a gun this time and…," Vesta admitted, but then touched on her unconvincing, self-assuring solution, and paused is if waiting for his approval.

Vergil halted inside the door and turned his head back, interjecting wryly, "…and coax them to bed with it?"

"That's so not fair! I do not need to do any coaxing whatsoever!" she finally exploded, her hands balling into fists as she glared at him, her mouth relieving her mounted agitation heatedly. "You know, I never criticized your problems that would make anyone's life hell, so if you can't deal with mine that quite frankly fade in comparison, just give me that darn suitcase and I will be on my merry way!!" After all, what he had said was insulting on many conflicting levels.

Vergil swallowed the ironic truth of her words, feeling a crumb of shame at his clearly unjustified remark. But instead of an apology, the use of which was never afforded to form any part of his tough life, he offered a reconciliatory compromise in a softer voice, "_that_ is why you will not be safe out there…"

"And why the hell would you give a monkey's?" she couldn't help but snort sardonically. "You did everything you could to make me leave, you threw me out the door after…after, well whatever, and just moments ago you couldn't even stand to look at me, and…and…oh…ooooh god I am so stupid…," she paused suddenly and looked him straight in the eye, "…you want that bloody thing don't you?" she breathed out incredulously.

Instead of an answer Vergil clasped his hand around her wrist and pulled her inside, closing the door behind. And she let him, intent on her newly steered flow of thoughts, her mouth still open as she continued in a half-irate, half-desperate tone.

"You said it had been sought after for two millennia and now you want it for yourself, whatever the fuck it is…," Vesta peered at his white hair, the only thing she could see, panting softly through her nose as he dragged her up the stairs through the ever-present darkness.

"…isn't that right? Why else would you decide to tolerate my oh-so-deplorable-and-ever-so-loud presence now, huh?" This was the only logic she could come up with taking into account all his previous hostile behaviour towards her; apart from that one returned kiss which, she was convinced, was forced out of some brief, grievance induced delusion. To her knowledge she did nothing to change his aversion towards her and this sudden turn dragged her deeper into conflicting frustration, together with his impossible silence.

"Can't you just take a picture of that thing and let me the hell go?" she finally voiced desperately, jerking her hand away from his when they reached the corridor of the upper floor.

Vergil simply used his now freed hand to open the door on the left that she knew led to the spare bedroom she was in the night before, and before stepping through with her suitcase he said matter-of-factly. "Your perceptive deductions are admirable, though completely misplaced. I have indeed taken in every detail of the map and therefore do _not_ need you for that particular purpose," he disappeared into the room, leaving her stunned in the hall.

Vergil had recognised it instantly, the ancient demonic symbols…his father's handwriting. A little secret Sparda had stolen from hell as a safety net, hidden away from all eyes. Only his father never counted with the cunning, greedy nature of humans, and their obsession with so called treasure hunting. And now fate delivered it into his son's hands…

"Wha-? A map? I have a frigging treasure map on my back?" perplexed, she rushed into the chocolate scented void of blackness that suddenly became enveloped in a faint glint of yellow light. She saw Vergil standing by the silver candlestick, no matches or a lighter of any kind in his hand. The suitcase was placed on a dresser by the sumptuous high four poster bed.

"Yes, I suppose you can put it that way," his eyes lit up briefly in amusement before swirling into a wrathful darkness. "It is a map worth killing for…," _a map I myself have sought and killed for_, "…a map of demonic origins, leading to a place so ancient and sacred that no ordinary man would comprehend even its existence not to mention its magic-infused power, a map all traces of which many tried to destroy, afraid the secret it hides would strip them bare from their unrightful proceeds of greed and corruption." Purposely honest, Vergil studied the girl's reaction.

Vesta opened her mouth, about to retaliate with a rather simplistic 'Come again?' but then she stilled and all colour drained from her face when a sudden realisation hit her. After the untoward events of that morning nothing fell into the category of weird anymore. "Are you actually suggesting that you brought me here because you don't want me running around out there with this _thing_ on my back?" Vesta began thoughtfully with a hint of incredulity.

_So smart yet so clueless, and regrettably so easily conned by human feelings…_ _She really doesn't know or simply doesn't care…_ Yet again she reminded him, unwillingly, of Dante.

Oblivious to his deductions, she continued with a snort, "…yeah, like I would go around showing my naked back to complete strangers…"

Vergil's perfectly shaped silvery eyebrow sailed to high heavens in a provocatively snide manner.

"Um, right, I just shot myself in the foot didn't I," she let out a short mirthless laugh. "But who would actually know what it is? From what you said only the most corrupt and powerful men would possibly know about the map?"

"Tell me if I'm mistaken but isn't that exactly the type you appear to…revolve around?" he said in challenge, drawling the last two words as he began to turn round the heavy candleholder as if absently playing with it.

"So are you suggesting you are one of them?" she threw back bitingly, riled how he was always so irritably right. She didn't miss the flare-up of evil satisfaction in his eyes and for a second wondered if he took it as a compliment, and hence it was true.

"To the point…" his voice flattened, and he let go of the solid silver sconce, the light now somehow casting more illumination over the luscious bed.

"But even if that's so, you must realise you can't keep me here forever," Vesta argued her point further.

"No, I cannot. And I am not planning to," Vergil's cryptic answer and his unblinking blue gaze, that was bathed in a strange warm light she hadn't seen there before, sent a shiver down her spine. This couldn't be good, she quickly surmised. Despite her feeling that he actually had a conscience and a sense of honour unlike all her other acquaintances, she still couldn't make any sense of him at all.

His moods changed faster than the weather forecast in the news; especially after she had come back with him following that attack in the town. Why couldn't he just stick to that cold and distant arrogance he had conveyed the first few days she had met him? It was much easier to know what to expect! …and to know when to slowly retreat or simply run like hell. But now, she wasn't sure if he was planning to kill her, or make her a mug of dark hot chocolate…

"So what are you planning to do?" Vesta probed warily as she bit into her lip, trying to keep her composure calm, her eyes following him intently as he strolled casually to the bed.

"I am going to ask you to come over here," he purred, patting on the silky white duvet while he tilted his head in a manner she interpreted as hotly seductive. She instantly tried to blank it out, attributing it to her imagination, induced by her prolonged failure to satisfy her own demanding physical needs.

"And why would you do that," she quizzed guardedly, not moving an inch.

"I have observed you have certain…talents," his voice was silky as he sat down on the edge of the bed, comfortably placing his right ankle on top of his left knee.

_Oh my god, he is inviting me to be his sex slave!_ Her pulse sped up and her heart skipped a beat simultaneously… _I'm at the gates of heaven! Or is it…at the pits of hell?_

She nearly moved toward him, completely entranced, but a sudden bright red alarm in her head halted 't she want to change? _Damn!!_ And didn't she want to prove to _him_ that she could change? _Double_ d_amn!!_

Seeing her conspicuous dilemma, which in fact confused him as she failed to exhibit such restraint before, Vergil deemed it appropriate to clarify. "Foremost, it would be in your own interest to come over here, take off your sweater and lie down on your abdomen."

_Now it's in my own interest? That surreptitious bastard! _Wasn't he condemning her for exactly that kind of conduct just minutes ago? The devil! And why did he have to be so persuasive! She bit into her lower lip till it nearly bled, her eyes sliding over the tightness of his soft leather trousers that were stretched impossibly tight around his crotch area due to his gutsy sitting position, showing almost everything that could be underneath.

To add insult to injury he was gazing at her with those intense iceberg eyes while slightly slouched in a very inviting, open kind of position, with his flawless face bathed in the soft glimmer of the candlelight. Didn't he know what he was doing to her? Or was he testing her? Either way she had to resist…

His confusion turned into frustration at her incessant hesitation. Hadn't her complete lack of blushing or any other sign of embarrassment told him she had no qualms performing what he had asked? He found it exceedingly refreshing to come across a woman that was confident in his presence, sexually or otherwise, as for the most of them a single glare from him sent them either running or fainting, depending on which mood he was in. Not that he came into contact with many, by choice, but with those that did approach him, the contact had been rather short lived.

"And if I say no?" inwardly torn, she said in quiet tentativeness, eyes peering directly at him from under her lowered lashes. No matter how much she longed for him to finish what the stranger failed to deliver, she would never forgive him or herself if he did it out of spite or loathing. Because why else would he, after what she had done? And she could not live with that, not with a shattered image of what she thought was, and could have made her, better. She prepared herself for the run, placing one leg slowly behind her. After all she had no idea how he would react…

Vergil afforded her a pregnant pause accompanied with a pointed look. "Then I will not be able to examine the wounds on your back and prevent the possibility of an ugly, most likely fatal infection," he exaggerated in agitation, raising his brow emphatically.

That's what it was about? Vesta almost broke laughing and crying inwardly. Quickly composing herself she gave her head a slight shake, then she dipped her head sexily with an impish one-sided smile and without hesitation moved towards the bed, pulling the sweater over her shoulders.

Vergil's eyes remained fixated on hers as she kicked off her boots, slid her knees onto the soft duvet, threw her top to the floor, and slowly allowed herself to sink into the chocolate and leather scented smoothness, placing her hands under her chin as she lay down in front of him.

Vesta felt the ends of his fingers glide over her skin, and then he said pensively, his voice slightly distant. "Curious. The wounds have not only stopped bleeding, they appear somewhat diminished."

"I have always had the tendency to heal really fast. I never knew why and hadn't bothered to, well, be bothered about it. I always hated the idea of doctors and hospitals, so I was grateful," she mumbled absent-mindedly from under him, looking sternly at the stack of snow-white pillows that contrasted so delightfully with the dark wood of the bed. Like chocolate and whipped cream…

"Do you know anything about your parents? Who they were?" Vergil's sudden enquiry made her turn her head. His fingers left the scars on her skin and she felt an abrupt chill cross over her.

"I never knew them. They found me in a trash bin, so they said. Well at least I lived up to expectations," she snorted bitterly but he only rose to his feet and kept looking at her with what she thought was his growingly impossible impassivity. Little did she know her innocent remarks constantly stirred feelings that were increasingly hard for him to conceal.

"We all make our choices…," he said softly in a monotone voice and turned away from her. "Your healing should make things easier," his tone sharpened as he began to cross the room to the burning candles.

"You are not going to burn that thing off, or shave it off with your katana, are you? Cause I don't heal _that_ fast!" she asked as a joke that then turned into worry. "And it would most likely _really_ bloody your bed. It would be such a shame to burn it if the maid won't clean it up…," not knowing quite why she said that, not at all thinking, maybe she tried to ease the lingering anxiety from her mind, but a feeling of dread told her to look up at him. His expression was blank, completely glazed as he stood by the dark dresser, holding the candelabra. His eyes and face caught a hellish sheen above the three dancing flames.

"Vergil, I'm sorry, I tend to forget myself," she rolled onto her side to face him fully, her eyes gleaming with self-rebuke as she took to chewing on her lower lip.

Vergil snapped back quickly, inwardly cursing himself for allowing a relative stranger to steal a view into his innermost demons. He should have never lost it in his mother's bedroom yet the very fact that he did had brought upon unexplained relief, as if the shackles holding him down so fiercely were slowly being chiselled away. The girl proved to be an ideal, and harmless, soak-sponge for his aggravations that he could have never shared with his closest family, and this gave him some sort of abatement. Although knowing what she was apologising for, he still opted to digress.

"Are you? Have I given you a reason to hold such a low opinion of me?" his voice deepening, he strolled back to the bed and loomed over her in all his height.

"No, I-, in fact I…," she struggled for words, confused by his reaction. His unpredictability yet again had her on edge and she, subconsciously, eyed the door.

"Although that would seem a more effective and logical solution, alas I am not partial to mutilating helpless women no matter how bothersome or irate they play to be…," he placed the candleholder on the night table as he spoke in a tone that bore a note of offence and scorn.

"I am not helpless!" Vesta blurted out with a protesting clench of her jaw and sat up abruptly, folding her legs under her, the option of the open door quickly slipping from her mind. She was entering the fight zone as the defence mechanism at his annoying judgemental habit just kicked in.

"And you may not be partial to mutilation, but you still managed to nearly kill me on several occasions, so don't delude yourself, you are no saint," she glared at him defiantly, absently rubbing her wrists that still stung from his earlier outburst of violence.

Visibly disturbed, his eyes flashed dangerously as he leaned over her, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his hands as if he was going to strangle her for good this time. "You could not even begin to conceive how much willpower I have to ceaselessly conjure up to keep my sanity barely intact, not to mention to keep myself from ripping apart everything I touch," his voice was a calm but violent storm, deep pools of turbulent blue a mere inch in front of her startled browns.

"There is a difference?" she nearly choked her words down as they just slipped out, but managed to somehow remain composed, and dry in her pants. Anticipating the end of her existence, she braced herself for the deadly impact that bloomed in his scorchingly simmering eyes, and let her eyelids fall shut. He was going to be her doom or her salvation, at this very moment…

His breath drifted away from her own, and she felt a slight dip of the mattress. "No, I suppose there isn't."

Hesitantly, Vesta opened her eyes. Vergil was sitting on the bed, his bent back facing her, his face dipped in his hands. She marvelled at how vulnerable he looked at that very instant, since all the time he had appeared strong and dangerous, even whilst attempting to take his own life. What was he fighting against that now, she had no doubt, had caused his moment of insanity, that she had mistaken for an act of grievance? What did he have to face that stripped him bare of all but dignity? Did she inadvertently put to test his already stretched limits?

Remembering his inconceivable easement and contentment the night she had worked her magic on his tension soaked muscles, right after he had nearly strangled her, a thought rose up in her head. Slowly, she leaned forward, settling herself on her knees, a conspiring smirk forming on her lips.

"You know I think you take things way too seriously," she thrown in skittishly, "You need to loosen up! Like the other night…oh, I know exactly what might help…," as if just getting an idea, she sneaked her hands over his shoulders and then casually slid her palms down his chest, ever so lightly taking hold of the zip of his vest.

"What are you doing," Vergil lifted his face from the confinement of his hands and half-turned to her at the feeling of her fingertips gliding down over the smooth fabric that a moment ago covered his abs, now was fanned out to expose the densely compact mounds of his stomach to the mild chill of the air.

"…it calmed you down the last time, didn't it?" she purred into his ear while drinking in his profile as he remained slightly turned to her, the softness of his skin that draped over the hardness of his chiselled bones unwittingly reigniting the fire of her desire. _No, I forbid myself…_

Steeling herself against his fervid allure, which intensified even more by his tentative silence, Vesta reached up and drew the vest from his broad shoulders. "So I figured that it could maybe help again…," she shrugged smiling and pulled the garment off his nonresistant arms, flinging it somewhere behind, "…you don't mind, do you?" she dug her thumbs into his shoulder blades with a great force.

"Mmhmmmm," was all that came out of him together with a responsive arch of his back. He then dropped his elbows onto his knees and bowed down his head which she took as a permission to go on.

"I take that as a yes," Vesta craved the effects of her attention as her thumbs slid deep into his skin, gently kneading up and down along his spine, and she began to feel those sculpted muscles she was working on to loosen up under her undivided touch.

Vergil had been holding in his excitement ever since the discovery of the ancient map he had been searching for in vain for so long. The very fact that he knew the place it was depicting was hidden somewhere very near yet he could not discover its exact whereabouts was testing his sanity in itself, day in and day out. Therefore, despite his serried suspicions, he simply had no other choice but to accept the immense improbability of a lucky chance, which never formed any part of his code of 'everything happens for a reason', and give his best shot at taking an advantage of such an impassable opportunity.

However he also took in the irony of this turnaround. Here and now, he was presented with a solution slapped right in his face when he might not last long enough to reach it, not to mention reap its rewards. Fate sure had a twisted sense of humour, but he was never one to give up before depleting every single possible resource and potentiality.

And the girl? Would her presence hinder his already slim chances ever further? Yet he could not let her loose…

"Maybe it's this place that makes you so tense you know, it had me creeped out even after a few days. I have been hearing weird voices and quite disturbing I must say…lie down," her soothing voice matching her unyielding touch penetrated into his thoughts.

"Voices…," he repeated absently, slinging his legs up to sink stomach down into the luxurious, soft bedding.

Briefly emerging from his train of thought, Vergil suddenly realised how cunningly she interlaid her casual conversation with a command that he would have never obeyed out of pure pride, yet she had him comply without a single consideration. Only a skilful woman could do that to a man…

"…yes, quite so. Disturbing and so real. It happened twice. Like there was someone in the room, but there wasn't…," she continued in a calm, conversational tone as she straddled him, her palms circling firmly yet sensually over his lower back, sliding down to his pelvis, then scooping out around his hips and back up the sides to his shoulders.

"Twice? Consider yourself lucky," he grumbled out from the depths of the silky pillows where his face was buried, eyes loosely shut. Happily lost in the entrapment of bliss he decided to postpone the processing of her revelation that could potentially be very relevant, to a more convenient time.

In between the eternal struggle to survive and fend off the ever increasing attempts of hell's bailiffs to claim his soul back, he had nearly forgotten that a simple touch could be more distracting yet provocative of complete peace of mind then anything he could have ever dreamt off trying on his own. The failing effects of the alcohol and other lonely activities he had engaged in, only being a grim testimony of such fact.

With his mind in such clarity right now, induced by the brief yet absolute detachment of hell's influence after his forceful engagement with the girl that morning, he could feel every sensation so sharply and evocatively. The girl's touch had provoked feelings of utter complacency and mental release, one he had only felt in the long forgotten loving and protective embrace of his mother when he was a small child.

How long before he started to fade out again and stop feeling, and undoubtedly forget again? That mere thought left him in dire need to surrender to every single sensation he was afforded to feel. Besides, he needed to gather all possible willpower and strength for the undoubtedly most arduous and dangerous trip he would ever have to take in his life, at the crack of dawn…

But what of her? She would only get in the way as he could not protect her whilst barely able to survive himself. Despite the admirable and surprising vigour she had shown when fighting off the demons with a mere bokken, she would be gruesomely ripped to pieces at the first attack initiated by something even marginally more powerful, notwithstanding the possibility that, at any time although unintentionally, he could kill her first. And hearing her singing again, should she utilise it as her formidable weapon, would only guarantee his rapid dive to an instant madness ultimately resulting in his own untimely, torturous death…

"Oh, so you hear them too? Well that would explain a few things, it would sure drive _anyone_ insane after a while…," when only a gruff rumble came from below as a response, Vesta smacked herself mentally for leaving all her diplomacy in her mother's womb. She dug her thumbs into a particularly hard muscle to divert his attention, although this was easier said than done as they were all so darn hard.

His pleasurable reaction however told her that it worked. "So why don't you simply leave, it must be sheer hell living here, amongst all those horrors for so long…," Vesta readied her thumbs above another impossibly tight muscle in anticipation of another wave of grumpiness.

"It would lead nowhere. Hell…follows me, I feel it all the time," came a placid response the sincerity of which shocked her. She spontaneously recalled her exact thoughts after the first time she had heard those vicious whispers in his mother's bedroom. 'Why did it have to follow her wherever she would go?' _Hallelujah, there is finally something we have in common._ Vesta thought sombrely while taking his meaning as nothing but figurative, as what else would it be.

Attempting to dissuade the thoughts of her newly discovered predicament that was so forcefully etched in the skin on her back, Vesta chimed on a lighter note, "Oh you too? Fancy that! Seriously they should have some laws there against stalking people like that. They really get on my nerves with their creepiness, so much so I had to devise some clever ways to blank them out," she threw in a wilful pause to draw out his interest, circling her fingertips sensuously over his lower back.

"Such as…," he prompted her on in a mildly curious tone, unaware of her blooming distraught scheme.

"Well, singing for a start…," she began dreamily but quickly continued on, feeling under her fingers the skyrocketing elevation of his tension that she tried so hard to work off, "…but then there is the other thing. It takes the mind off absolutely everything. It can even fend off hell itself…," she led him on teasingly, leaning closer over him as her hands travelled with a light touch up to his neck.

She still wasn't sure if he understood how much she needed what she thought he had dismissed as preposterous and loathsome. All she wanted was for him to accept, without hate and judgement, that her need for physical contact was not just some silly, dirty whim of an adolescent girl. That she did it as a means to survive, just like he, from her observations, took to alcohol and solitude. If only the prominent curve of his taut buttocks that her thighs were brushing against wasn't making it extremely hard to concentrate.

_God, this is so hard! _

Vesta swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "…I mean, you said you feel it all the time, but do you feel it now?" she began to shake, something she had never done before in an intimate situation. The heat burned into her face, and she speculated it must have been the candles, wishing to extinguish their malicious fire that cast such teasing gleams across his alabaster skin that she was still touching.

He lifted and turned his head slightly. "No. I have not sensed it since…," he stalled, his mind clouding as he tried to recall and process the exact moments of hell's drastic retreat from his brutally entrapped conscience.

Somewhat relieved by his honest answer Vesta braved herself to finish using his own words, "…since I was so eager to throw myself at you earlier today?" Seeing his clenching jaw and expecting cold retaliation, she hastily went on. "Do you remember what I told you about doing what I did because of needing to feel wanted?" taking his short growl as a nod, she continued, "well, there is also another reason. It shuts everything else off. Do you not see now?" she pulled her hands of him absently, desperately intent on hearing the much desired confirmation of his understanding.

Vergil's entire core shook with an involuntary tremor of conflicting and dawning emotions that were not expected nor welcomed. He turned his body to face her fully in the slow, unwilling birth of a shocking realisation, yet he remained silent, his lone nature resisting very hard to accept it.

Eyes locked in an intense, two-way anticipation, neither of them fell aware that his spontaneous movement had caused his narrow hips swivel under her, the involuntary friction hardening one part of his body as they settled locked in the most intimate position.

Exasperated at his daunting silence which she took for a blunt refusal, Vesta tried to remit her pleading demand. "I am not looking for absolution or blessing for the things I do. All I ask is that before you come to any hard conclusions, just try a short walk in my shoes…"

She drew out a soft sigh, tired of his apparent unwillingness to relent, and began to straighten, ready to move away. Then she blanched at the same time as her cheeks fused with colour when by shifting, she _felt_ his _hard_ conclusions…

"Then why did you stop just now?" he said sharply in a displeased yet very deep, silken voice. The loss of her hands on his body and the feeling of her growing agitation and increased detachment began to shatter the protective walls that fell in place around his mind and faded out the outside world.

Vesta hid both of her hands that were visibly shaking behind her back. She knew this was make or break. In almost certain knowledge that he would not admit to the reasons of her ways verbally, she would simply have to show him and pray that he would accept her invitation and she would be able to make him understand.

Only if she wasn't able to make him feel it, it would have been worse than leaving right now. Unable to choose a path since the outcome of either could break her, she decided to let him make the choice for her. "If you do not understand, then I cannot continue or I would be too compelled to _show_ you the world in my eyes…"

The trouble was Vergil came to understand very well, no matter how utterly contradicting and staggering this all was to his adamant believes. Did he get it all wrong all this time? Was his withdrawal from his family his biggest mistake? He needed to be sure, and gather enough strength to even contemplate that his father could have been a victim of a terrible error and perhaps could have lived had he chosen the opposite path…

Vergil now knew that he would take her with him. Only for now he needed to finish building up those fortifying walls for the journey that could be his last.

"Then…show me…," face rigid, he reached for her hand and started to pull her down into his arms…

* * *

_So did you like their little interactions and how they turned out? Dante is coming back soon, don't worry, and hmm, a treasure map? I smell a little adventure…after some…erm…well you'll figure it out *evil smirk here*_

_And for those who haven't yet figured out how to review, here is another instalment in the infamous guide to the entire galaxy, or just to reviews really, in 3 easy steps:_

_1) Press the review button to launch yourself into space (you know the dark one, with all that non-existing matter?)_

_2) Fly to the planet Antziod, you know the one with that big ring full of icy particles and dust, and with those tiny little people crawling on the surface. Yeah, that's the one, you got it! YAY Aim there!_

_3) Now stick out your keyboard or iPod or what-have-you while flying through the ring and eat your sandwich. You might wanna wear some thick gloves too as those suckers could chop off your fingers at that speed, well who cares about the keyboard hey? And remember to hold your breath cause there is no air! Ok, that's about it, I think, all done now. Oh and remember to fly back home, if you want to and have any fuel left ;)_

_Ok, I am officially mad, you see I couldn't fly to Turkey for my holiday because of a volcano! *sad face*_


	15. The world in my eyes

**The world in my eyes **

The night seemed to have draped over the narrow alleyway even though the first signs of daylight started to show themselves through the smoke filled air in the early morning hours.

Dante grabbed his cased sword with one hand, and clenched his lower chest with the other. The stench of blood and foul play spread around him with such prominence, even the unholy vapours escaping from the sewers became barely noticeable. It became, however, the mental turmoil unveiling in his head that sent his stomach on a mission to turn and wring out everything he had not eaten that day.

Looking sternly ahead, he stumbled over the discarded rubbish and dirt, swiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. The disgusting bravado of Memphis scraped through his head like a rusty old blunt knife.

'_Your brother is as good as dead anyway…'_

"Retarded fucktard! We'll see about that…," he grumbled out with his teeth clenched tight and flicked the sticky crimson substance off his hand in disgust. "Not if I can do something about it…"

_Whoever wants my bro dead is already a dismembered, walking corpse!_

'_Only picture this, he is completely powerless…'_

"You are forgetting there is still one walking around with the full power you shithead, fully charged and ready to fucking explode!" Clenching his big hand into a tight fist, Dante let the nearest dumpster feel the full extent of his intentions and the meaning of his words. Riding the tide of a hot-tempered rage he thrust his fist forth, penetrating the thick metal like it was a mere paper. Steady as a rock, he pulled out his undamaged, transformed hand, icy determination swimming in the blue brilliance of his eyes as they fixedly observed the demonic surge slip away from his veins, turning his skin from roughened black back to human.

_That's why you didn't trigger…you couldn't._ A sudden flood of turbulent, disbelieving, tearing thoughts surged through him like a destructive tornado. Why didn't Vergil tell him anything? Did he even lie to him? _'It was too cold…'_ Amidst all that had happened in the past he could easily understand his brother's resentment against weakness. Should Vergil have shown even the slightest sign of a let down in his guard, one tiny little slip up while looking after his baby brother, and they would have ended up dead. But Vergil had never lied to him before, letting a nasty feeling sink in that maybe there was something else he was hiding.

An immense pressure of self rebuke and anger at Vergil spurred him forward. He should have never left Vergil to deal with everything on his own. It had made them drift apart. It had been insanely unhealthy, closing Vergil off into a self-appointed, inescapable isolation; a trust-less, lonely prison of constant fear of failing. Failing to deliver on an implied promise to protect a little brother from the unholy stench of all hell. And hell, was there a lot of stench!!

Wading relentlessly through the pools of overflowing sewage and piled on garbage, Dante headed to the place where he had left his bike. Rounding the corner to the alley where he had entered the bar, his steps slowed down as he continued to assimilate and drill down into the information he had been given.

'_I have to give it to him though, I never imagined he would last this long…how the fuck does he do it…'_

Dante let out an involuntary chuckle. Only his curelessly stubborn dickhead of a brother could have lasted this long. Maybe their turbulent past drenched in unspeakable violence was good for something after all. Dante's mind roiling, the forced smile that played on his lips vanished as a puff of smoke in a strong wind.

How _did_ he survive? If Vergil couldn't morph into his devil form then who had vaporised that frigging air-sucking demon's ass? The girl? Dante quickly shook his head at the absurdity of that deliberation. Yeah, she was a tough cookie in a hilariously ignorant kinda way but that was all. He never sensed any powers or demonic energy in her, only a rather strong, pent-up sexual tension that he could smell from a mile away. And she seemed to have the hots for Vergil who had kind of self-combusted inside that peanut balled demon… Nah! No way! Moving on… It had to be something else! Or someone else!

'_I don't see why they want him dead so desperately, but I know one thing; it must be something pretty fucking serious…'_

Yeah well knowing Vergil he wouldn't have gotten into anything that _wasn't_ pretty fucking serious! But if they wanted him to be a charred toast so badly why spit him out? Or maybe that freakish hellfire misfired? No. They wouldn't have sent two devil-lords after him, especially since that first chunk of spineless air was so darn successful. And the attack had been too precise, too calculated to have been a mistake. So why would some ass, capable of destroying such a powerful hunter demon, want to keep Vergil alive? Is that how Vergil had survived all this time? A secret admirer from hell? That would be too good! Nah! Women run away from him, not toward him! He even managed to drive off Vesta in the end for crying out loud! A _male_ admirer maybe?

Dante cringed at the possibility that he would relish, and would've made sure to exploit, under different circumstances. Any old twisted psycho knobhead could have been purposely delaying the inevitable for their own entertainment. Wasn't that always the way? Dante snapped his eyes shut, feeling a trail of sweat slide down his temple. This was all giving him a headache, all that thinking. He reached for his temples and squeezed hard, willing his focus to resurface.

Did Vergil jump into the lake and then into that demon's innards deliberately? He must have known that without his demonic powers he would have had no chance whatsoever. Or was he already so insane he couldn't tell the difference? And who in the name of all hell would want Vergil alive? _No offence Verge…but you have_ _no friends, period. _Dante knew that Vergil had never trusted anyone, killing his supposed allies even at the first sniff of a betrayal. History be the proof of that.

But Vergil _did_ nearly drown in that lake, was it not for that freakish trunk of a tree falling so conveniently into Dante's path and diverting him…

Dante raked through his hair and rubbed his face vigorously, encouraging himself to concentrate. The fight with the snow demon... Vergil was almost killed had it not been for Dante's prompt reaction to the message sent by Vesta. Only she said she never sent it…

'_I only called a minute ago and you didn't even answer!'_

Holy fuck and hell up the ass! Someone _is_ helping Vergil! And both sides seem to want to remain incognito…

_She must know something! Did someone even send her to watch over Vergil? Or watch him? _The only woman that had withstood his blunt hostility and stayed around him for so long, even getting through to Vergil; those were his own thoughts! _Did she even actually leave?_

No, not her! She was too 'sanely insane' to be bad, right? And a babe! Still it was all simple, Dante surmised. If she had really left she was in the clear, but if she had come back…well…let's just say Dante would have a few questions to ask. Politely, maybe. Although at the back of his mind he had hoped for the former, since he had gotten rather attached to that girl, there was always that lesson Vergil never forgot to drill into him at every opportunity – trust no one…

The soft bang of a door opening coincided almost exactly with three blasts from a gun. Without missing a heart beat Dante opened his eyes and unhurriedly turned his head to the right, looking over his outstretched arm. The three foes he had the displeasure of meeting earlier in the bar now lay in a heap on the ground sporting perfect gaping holes in their foreheads. He scowled. They should have bloody stayed put! But then again the world had been ridden of three more scumbags who sold their corrupt souls to become blind followers of hell.

Dante bent his arm and blew off the smoke from the steaming gun. Completely unfazed he re-holstered Ivory with a subconscious twirl and resumed his stride to his awaiting transport together with his painful deliberations. Never before did he have to engage his brain so much apart from that run around in Vergil's tower of joy and endless entertainment. Now was only the second time he had been left to puzzle through a highly disturbing, stressful and time limited situation. Why did anything involving his brother had to involve excessive thinking?

_Concentrate! Flex those unused muscles dammit! You can do it…just breathe and get the oxygen flowing! _

No doubt Vergil would have gathered even more enemies while seeking Yamato in which case multiple, correction - mass deaths of the netherworld's resources and followers were imminent. But that would mean they would have been after him for over two years.

'…_and quite likely very recent if they are managing to keep it so hush-hush…'_

Then what could be so darn recent that they upped the steam just now? Killing hell's servants sure couldn't have been it, or they would have done the same to Dante frigging ages ago. Making it his mission in life Dante had killed far more scum than Vergil could have ever calculated in that fast ticking head of his. So why the fuck were they so hell-bent to go after him now?

His steel-capped boot connected with the brick wall in synch with his reasoning. Dante would have banged his head but that would just lead to an unproductive injury. This way he could vent his frustration more freely and it hurt a lot less too. The satisfaction of the hard impact somewhat drowned his intolerable agitation. He needed to make sense of this!! And soon! How else could he help his brother? And who the hell dared to be imposing on his own turf, taking away his own birth given right to be saving his twin's ass? The ass he _should_ have been saving, dammit! His anger rising, he slammed his foot repeatedly into the undeserving wall.

_Well they need not fucking bother! I would go to hell itself to help my brother… _

At the heavy rumbling and eerily cracking sounds of breaking and crumbling brick and mortar Dante ceased his destruction and swiftly stepped aside. Turning the blind eye at the thick cloud of dust that whooped into the alley like an angry pyroclastic flow as the wall of the bar caved in completely, he quickly proceeded to mount his machine.

Igniting the engine, Dante shuddered at the recalling of his brother's solemn demand that Vergil sprang up on him so suddenly at the grave on their mother's remembrance day. '_I need you to promise me you will never enter hell…_'

That's why he didn't want him to set a foot in the damned realm! Dante felt his stomach tighten even more and he nearly misjudged a tight corner that he took faster than the laws of physics allowed. The tail of the bike slipped into a violent, jagged skid but Dante quickly compensated with his boot planted firmly into the tarmac. The ugly smell of burning rubber entered his nose and he subconsciously imagined it to be the unholy scent of the demon world.

'…_once you enter hell you can never leave on your own terms…'_

Vergil is protecting him! Again! In his darn unwavering stupor and damnable inability to change his ways! Big brother or not, it was about time for them both to take equal share of their burdened heritage. Didn't he see that his little brother could more than hold his own now? Didn't Dante kick his notoriously stubborn ass on more than one occasion? And why in the name of all that made any sense in all of this would Vergil think that Dante would ever want to go to hell anyway? Dante had never been the one to embrace his demonic heritage…

Breaks screeched as the flash of a red light passed through the corner of his vision. FUCK! Even with his mind taking a walk elsewhere, his sharp, exceptional senses subconsciously picked up on the movements around him, only omitting to read to road signs. He literally swam through the streets with his eyes closed, instinctively avoiding contact with other objects, relying on his strong inborn sense of survival.

"Sorry!" he shot back over his shoulder to the car he whipped right in front of, cursing himself for the close call. He would have survived, his demonic cells capable of repairing any damaged human cells in an ironically vicious attack in itself, but they would not. Deciding not to endanger any innocent humans, he turned into a more derelict, empty part of town before submerging back into his thoughts.

_FUCK! Crap wrapped in a shiny paper! Vergil needs his power to survive and quite likely to even live normally!_ His demonic essence that had been ripped out of him and left sealed in the hellish realm is no longer recharging his demon blood. That is why he wasn't healing so fast anymore, and it would get even worse together with his resistance to the calls of hell, unless…

'…_no matter what reasons may ever arise, no matter who asks you to, even if it was me...'_

_I understand now…_ Did Vergil, who could withstand torture almost unimaginable, think his condition could get so bad and unbearable that he would beg Dante to break his own concrete beliefs and take a trip to hell to bring his brother's devil essence back? He could take blows even Dante would find his stomach churning over yet those were all physical. In both cases, where Vergil had fallen the hardest, he had been attacked mentally, where it would cause him the most damage.

A massive, highly disturbing shudder ran through him at that very moment and caused him to slam the brake, bringing his machine to a screeching halt on its front wheel, leaving a pound worth of rubber imprinted in the asphalt behind.

An awful realisation dawned on him that by his promise to his brother he had effectively cast out the only way to save him. And it was clear that Vergil knew this very well when he had asked him. If there was any other way, Vergil of all people, would have been sure to find it by now and would have never felt inclined to reveal this much to Dante.

Dante felt sick to the bones when his head shot up to the clouded heavens. A hearty, uninhibited and out loud "FUUUUCK!" resounded through the dusty, daylight kissed streets.

_Fuuuuck! _Vesta barely rememberedto breathe as the dissipating patches of her clear mind tried its best to rebel against the instinctive reactions of her body. In the shock of his acceptance that filled her mind with disbelief and apprehension, she became distraught even more and wanted so desperately to run away.

Vergil was pulling her towards him, her learned needs responding greedily as every single inch of her was being slowly laid on top of his bare skin, her heat stricken slender waist sticking to his cold flushed abs like polar opposites. There was no way out now, with her mind collapsing under the weight of her desire, she was trapped by his alluring curiosity and the promise of what she had always wanted to feel.

Unbelievable as it was to her, Vergil wanted to see why she took solace and found an airtight shelter from the world in the warmth of someone's arms; no matter how cold and pretentious that someone could be on the outside. But just how would it feel...if that someone _wasn't_ cold anymore? How much better would it feel? Would she ever want to leave then? But…if he turned his back and still slandered her for what she wanted so much to do right now in good faith, right after he was done with her, then could she ever face herself again?

He had made the decision for her and a part of her wanted to let go completely, no matter what consequences would lay in its wake. Still the doubt lay at the back of her mind, the pressure of expecting failure and rejection caused her to nearly shatter right in front of him, and she struggled not to let it show.

Why did he want to see, when not so long ago he had shown unwavering disdain and scorn for what he was asking her to do now? Even though his negative feelings towards her were of no importance only a few days ago, now the mere thought of them seemed too painful to withstand. No matter how unbearably tempting, even the miniscule chance of the slightest affection could not outweigh the long-term damage that he would cause her should he more likely take to denouncing her delusional existence again. Vergil was right after all, there was no love in meaningless sex, nor in a single warm touch, no matter how much it helped to cope with the coldness that ruled the world…

Vergil found it hard to believe that he could barely perceive the mild chill of the room, the flickering light that cast distorted shadows on the walls, those constant warnings of danger carried on the wind into his ears or the whispers in the dark corners of his head. In fact that world of constant pain was all breaking apart, being replaced in its entirety by the alluring wild scent that she dispersed like a soothing balm, her hair that began to spread around him in luminous brilliance, the electrifying feel of her heated skin on his… How could a mere touch have so much power?

He was unwillingly aware that she had saved him from falling to hell's inescapable abyss and all he could do was return anger and stone cold rage. But how could he have accepted that a mere passionate, undeterred and confident touch from a human woman was stronger, more powerful than his own mind and will? His will that he had trained over a decade to withstand the forces of all evil all the worlds could offer, and failed? How could he have not dismissed it then, as a mere and foolish distraction, an attack on his pride that he had carried like an unbreakable shield all his life?

He needed to know, needed to be certain. And then, perhaps he would choose to stray from his father's fatal, pride inscribed path and accept those close to him to ease his suffering…

_Show me more…_

The mean, unflinching poker face was in place even now as she was descending onto his chest. The heat emanating from the candles and from her body was melting her skin to fuse with the cold sweat glistening all over his hard contours. She could see his features clearly, now that she was facing him, so close, only the customary iceberg mingling with stormy water in his eyes turned into a warm current after a rainfall on a tropical island…or was it an illusion?

_No! I can't! _

Her whole body tied by fear and inhibited by tremors, she wanted to swim in the blue pools of those eyes but knew that she could only drown…

_I would show you the world in my eyes…only if I didn't care, like with the others…_

In the violent surge of contradicting emotions swirling through her head, she struggled to resist, her prevailing will in dire opposition to her ravenous body that was screaming for immediate attention. Vesta began to slowly lift herself from his melting ice, feeling her weight double as she fought against the strong pull of his magnetic charisma, and of his hand that was still holding hers.

"Is something wrong?" he raised his head from the white pillows, a few snowy strands of his hair falling into his face. His eyes seemed waking up from deep thoughts, as if sharpening from an illusion of some sort, slipping back into the customary chill of slightly hostile annoyance yet retaining a strange glint of apprehension.

Her eyes never left his as she froze. "I…I don't know. I can't seem to relax," her words came out before she could think, her mind still fighting against her body. She had always been in control but now things could not have been more out of her hand, and she was not even able to come up with a more suitable excuse.

_Welcome to my world._ "Would you feel more comfortable if I pulled out a knife?" Vergil offered.

Her mouth opened to shoot out a protest, only it then dawned on her that his tone had been completely sarcasm free, instead holding a note of unsuccessfully concealed urgency and sincere bewilderment that forced her to suppress a laugh of surprise. Could it be even remotely possible that he had his own secret need for physical contact? If it was this urgent, was it more of a fleeting need? Was he…horny? How long would it last till he would be bored of her again? Her pupils expanded at the conclusion that reinforced her fears, fusing her erratic thoughts into an even stronger desire to flee.

She tried to free her hand from his tight, but pain-free grip. "You only think this a joke, some sort of an amusement to revel in my degradation so that you could prove your point?" she threw at him angered together with a well aimed punch with her free hand, hiding her true trepidation, hoping that she would make him cross enough to let her go. Her fist never landed on his face however, instead he now held both of her hands captive, his eyes unamused, gleaming with provoked passion of a wild cat let out to conquer its prey.

"Nonsense!" Vergil said curtly, and in a flash had her pressed against him in full length, her face a mere inch from his.

"Let me go! You don't want this! You can't fool me that easily!" she tried to roll off of him but he pinned her calves down with his ankles.

What had gone into her? Why was she finding the need to flee from him when he was nothing but reasonable, even willing to put his own stubborn pride aside to give her a chance to prove herself? Even if it was for his own benefit… He would never understand women!

Not having a clue what to do and not comprehending why she abandoned the confidence he had seen in her, agitation and restlessness was swiftly washing over his nerves. He needed yet again to calm down, becoming beyond desperate, in dread-filled need to understand this newly found way to fend off hell. So why now of all the times when she stubbornly refused to leave did she have to do the opposite?

Not being the one to give up at the first sign of trouble, or any sign for that matter, he decided a conservative honesty was the way to go, while keeping her restrained as furtively as possible. Wasn't that what the gentile gender valued most? Honesty entrenched by possessive dominance?

"I am not the one doing the fooling here," he ground out through his teeth not hiding his annoyance. He pushed one of her arms out and in one quick smooth movement flipped her on her back, trapping her under his weight, her arms pinned by his elbows into the soft bedding by her head.

Vesta gulped. He was becoming more agitated alright, but not in the way she had expected. His increasingly demanding mannerisms gave off a sense of desperation and ignited vigour…

_Shit! _Vesta caught his breath with hers, suddenly very much aware of his extreme closeness and her increasing inability to escape, both physically and mentally. Irony truly had its work cut out this time. Now that he finally seemed to have found a reason to want her, she found a good reason to get away from him.

"Then why do you want this?" she exhaled in tired defeat, exasperation etched in her eyes that she had to avert from him to subdue the need to scream in frustration.

_Stop thinking…just stop thinking of his reactions, stop thinking of the stirring life pressing into the aching depravation between my legs…_ Funny, how she never imagined someone so hard and unflinching on the surface all the time could actually turn…so hard and unflinching. _Think of a song, think of a song… _She closed her eyes.

'_Let me take you on a trip, around the world and back, and you won't have to move, you just lay still…' _

_Because we are going on a little trip at the crack of dawn… _Vergil kept his true reason floating in his head, voicing only part of the truth, "To let you prove what you said…" He could not tell her, he still didn't trust her.

She felt him release both of her hands, and then, a light touch passed over her heated cheek.

_'Now let your mind do the walking, and let my body do the talking, let me show you the world in my eyes…'  
_

_I need to prepare…_ "…to show me what your touch can do…," he breathed out, andwith two fingers turned her chin so that she would face him. He felt her shiver, and watched her eyes open to reflect two pools of stormy blue.

She breathed in heavily, her chest rising, sinking into the hard mounds of his muscles that were drenched in perspiration despite the early winter chill that mercilessly battered the room.

'_I'll take you to the highest mountain, to the depths of the deepest sea, and we won't need a map, believe me…'_

_I know exactly where it is…I just need to get there without hell on my heels…_ Vergil thought as his eyes slid over the delicate curve of her neck, trailing the runaway pearl of sweat on her tender skin like a hungry predator.

Her mind lost the battle as soon as her eyes drank in his otherworldly face, the candlelight that reflected off his unearthly features and his body posed and ready to pounce sealing her fate. Her hands gained a mind of their own as they snaked around his taut waist to press down into the small of his back and started to glide upwards.

_'Now let my body do the moving, and let my hands do the soothing, let me show you the world in my eyes…'_

_Make me withstand the things they put me through, the pain I've been subjected to, make me feel… _"…make me feel it," Vergil tormented her skin with his softly vibrating voice, his hand getting lost in her hair.

Honesty was paying off, he quickly assessed, as he felt her melt under him. Her touch was beginning to slowly seal every single bleeding nerve-ending in his body, every raw wound left open by the tortuous clutches of hell.

Her fingertips electrified his skin as they slid sensuously all over his bareness, paying attention to every curve and nuance with equal fervency. Closing his eyes, Vergil drank in the soothing feeling that had banished the world around him to a nonexistent, parallel universe. He was falling into an opulence of pleasant sensations, daring not to move as if the slightest change could break the powerful spell she was bestowing upon him. Not even her massage, delivered with purposeful strokes had made him feel like this…

Vesta parted her trembling lips as her breaths grew heavier, and she reached up to gently glide her finger up his ghostly pale cheek, her other hand tracing a blazing path over the tight clusters of muscles that were weaved into his upper back like the toughest armour.

God, was he always this hard, even in a relaxed state? Or had she failed to vanquish the tightness out of him and relax him even a little bit? Had she even failed to stir any kind of a feeling in him? Vesta shifted ever so slightly in growing anxiety as she thought that he was failing to respond to her tender loving ministrations. This had never happened before…

Her hands reached up to his face, entrapping him in a tender hold, clutching him motionless above her by a disbelieving, defeated gaze. "You don't feel anything…," she breathed out in soul shattering bewilderment.

'_That's all there is, nothing more than you can feel now, that's all there is…'_

The candles burned out, forcing darkness to fall upon them.

The demons that would strive and converge on his mind like hungry vultures in the void of blackness failed to show themselves. The last tendons of his doubts began to tear, ripping out all remaining agitation as he felt her eyes on him through the dark, her quickened breath and shivers of her slender body that had stiffened with what he had taken for breathless anticipation.

_I can feel it now…  
_

Vergil shifted his hips in ravenous response, grinding his burning hardness into her, his head dropping back in gratifying pleasure that swept through him like a powerful hurricane. He needed to feel more and feed on the empowerment that crept into him as his senses sharpened in the darkness, free from the beckoning of hellish forces and the blinding waves of pure, undiluted evil.

Plunged savagely into the unknown sensations, he fisted his hand in her hair and pushed her deep into the white heaven of the pillows. He leaned closer to her, letting his eyes ravage her breathtaking bewildered orbs, take in the lips that quivered with lingering confusion, sense her hands that fell wondrously to his shoulders, feel the hotness that erupted between her thighs and hurled into his entire body like a newborn volcano…

_You have not lied to me. I will do my best to protect you, no matter what may come…_

"I feel everything…," his resolute confession delivered in a deep, tauntingly sultry voice fettered her fears with heavy, indestructible chains.

Arching her back in one powerful sweep, she broke out from the sea of pillows and reached out to him with unleashed abandon of her apprehensions. Her mouth sailed dauntlessly to crush against his terribly manly, usually pain haunted lips, now tormented with unshackled passion that she could sense even before touching him. His desperation fed into her, igniting her own suppressed aching to be lost in the luxuries of love, far away from the clutches of the unforgiving world.

'_Let me put you on a ship, on a long, long trip, your lips close to my lips, all the islands in the ocean, all the heavens in the motion, let me show you the world in my eyes…'_

The hungry grunt he allowed her to hear caressed her ears like fine music and rippled through her body like an elixir of life. With a tormentous fervour they locked into a heated embrace, losing all senses, feeling only the tantalising closeness that swept them into a whirlwind of ravenous passion.

Legs and arms intertwined, hands roaming over every reachable plane of heated skin, mouth seeking and tasting with savage intensity, their fused bodies decimated the immaculate sheets into a mangled heap of sweat soaked mess as they rolled from side to side uncontrollably and wildly.

Oxygen flew through their veins with excruciating speed, their breath struggling to keep up as muscles stretched and flexed; insatiably, avidly, relentlessly to quench and fill the deep void that gaped hauntingly in their very existence.

Close to breathless, Vesta rolled on top of Vergil, and gripped his wrists with outstretched arms, trying to steady him down. Seeing her through the darkness, her brown orbs brimming with exhaustion mingled with wanton devotion, Vergil forced his pounding heart to slow down to a calmer pace and ceased his reckless, adrift fury.

A strong cascade of lunar light came crashing through the window panes, bathing their bodies in thousands of tiny sparkles, reflecting of every single bead of perspiration that clung to every inch of their exposed skin.

Her mouth fell ajar, pulse heading back towards detonation as her eyes soaked in his moonlit face. He gazed back at her, completely still, eyes roaming with torturous lentitude downwards, over the generous swell of her breasts to the sweat glistening flat of her stomach, stopping on the soaking stripe of panties between her legs.

The moonlight retracted from the bedroom, dragged back into the prison of the dark clouds that closed mercilessly behind.

Their vision stolen again, they both sprang into action. In a flash Vergil had her flipped over, his strong hands tearing off her remaining clothes that he saw as an unworthy enemy standing in his way. With equal vigour but skilful heedfulness, Vesta disarmed his heavily guarded waist and pulled down his trousers, still in one piece.

Her body laid out completely naked under him, Vergil kicked out the clothing that gathered down at his ankles and plunged the full weight of his sculpted, bare hardness on top of her, completely enthralled and instigated by her feverish yet adept responses.

As Vesta unfurled under him however, he soon became trapped in a buried well of inexperience that came crashing down on him, throwing him out of his comfort zone of loneliness and constant violence. Never getting this far before, Vergil began to rapidly fall into uncertainty, shaken by the sudden discomfort he was not prepared to face off.

Driven purely by his human instincts, he deflected his demeaning hesitation by running his hands all over the sides of her graciously curved body, one he perceived as carved like that of a beautiful goddess. Vergil buried his face in the pillows next to her, stifling the unwanted, disclosing growl of frustration that threatened to tear out of his throat. He was feeling increasing pain in his throbbing, ready to burst crotch that was so torturously rubbing against her warm wetness yet he could not bring himself to seek a relief.

Sensing the streams of tension and unease surge through his body as he was welded into her, Vesta recognised the symptoms straight away. Although she was not prepared to believe what was clearly happening, her experience and unstoppable desire to bring them both to shuddering fulfilment begged her to quickly discard her shocking realisation and take the lead.

"Let me…," hooking her slender calve under his strong, lean leg she flicked her hip up and rolled him onto his back, easily straddling him. "Just relax and enjoy…," Vesta enclosed her hand around his painfully swollen hardness. Revelling at his enormous fullness and the feel of him shudder under her at her touch, she lifted him to her thighs. Calmness and complete confidence entered her body and mind.

Licking her dry lips in burning anticipation of finally being able to do what she had been deprived of for such a long, excruciating time, Vesta closed her eyes. Without a single moment of hesitation she began to mount his aching manliness, throwing her head back at the tide of emotions that roiled through her.

He was filling her so completely, she nearly flinched as her involuntary abstinence made her less flexible but before she could even feel any pain, wave upon wave of abject bliss consumed her. As she slowly slid down his hard, hot shaft, she could feel every single nerve ending light up with pent-up pleasure that exploded inside her body like a seed receiving water for the very first time.

Her eyelids lifted ever so slightly to see his dark silhouette arch under her in accepting discreteness of what he must have been feeling. Her hands slipping onto his smooth hard chest, she sent a whisper into the dusky room as she began to ride him.

"…enjoy my world…"

_

* * *

__First of all - the song lyrics don't belong to me, they are from '__**World In My Eyes**__' by Depeche Mode. This was my first ever try to incorporate something like this into a story, so what did you guys think of it? :o) Did it blend in OK and did it make sense with their thoughts? I am dying to know!!! XDD_

_Right, now for the next instalment of the 'How to review' guide, just a warning, this is gonna hurt both mentally and physically:_

_1) Well now, most of you, apart from my elite number of readers, have not even got to this stage, so shame on you! Just press the Review button already! Go oooon! Don't be such spoil sports :D It doesn't hurt - well it hurts me if you don't review!! Puppy eyes! Please? Nothing at all to say?_

_2) OK next, start gazing intently into empty space (Vergil style) and fill your mind with thoughts of the theory of relativity, purpose of life, and the possibilities of time travel…_

_3) Now feel free to start banging your head on the keyboard (Dante style) as you feel your brain go all gooey…_

_Done! I take no responsibility for damaged heads, that is before or after the banging!_

_See ya! _


	16. The glow before dawn

**The glow before dawn **

Tired and heavy long lashed eyelids fluttered to expose the wide, chestnut eyes to the faintly moonlit room. As the hazy contours of the dark furniture around her came to life, recognition slowly dripped into her awakening mind drenching it in sweet contentment. Coming to partial consciousness from the thoughts of an amazing, surreal dream, she became aware of the weight pressing against her. She felt soothing warmth seeping into her from above yet her shoulders ached from a bitter cold that must have had the chance to bite into her for some time.

Vesta carefully lifter her head and allowed her eyes to travel over the white curtain of dishevelled hair that was falling over her left collarbone. Suddenly remembering the night's events, she was hardly able to take in the sight of this lethal, brutal man, leading a life of a lone brooding wolf, who was now splayed so trustingly over her naked body in all his glory. And he brought the meaning of a glory to brand new heights.

She had often wondered at the beauty of the male body, painstakingly trimmed and sculpted into what humans perceived as perfection. Seeing first hand her own fair share of heavily prized, resplendent maleness put on shameless, self-aware display for the pleasure of any woman or another man, she struggled to hold back her bewilderment that the finest one she had seen, laying right on top of her, had not been stolen by another one's touch before. Or was she mistaken?

Quickly awakening to the private, intimate sight of those hard curves that outlined every single splendidly defined muscle and strongly shaped bone, her eyes only now had the chance to take in fully what she perceived as his true likeness, free from that unhealthy tenseness and well maintained wall of ice he put up all the time…

His face, peaceful and clear from the seemingly endless torture, turned slightly upwards as if to open those arctic eyes to greet her to his warm embrace at any moment. His arm, bumpy with all those never relaxing muscles, draped carelessly over her ribs, hanging down from the bed into the empty dark space. His other arm, curved around her to disappear under the white pillows. The silky smooth, tough skin on his back that sloped down to a narrow waist only to rise up sharply and stretch over a tight, heavenly swell of his backside.

She stretched out her fingers to grip the crumpled duvet cover and slowly pulled it up, covering him up, her knuckles trailing over his cold skin. Just how long had he been hiding in this empty, godforsaken hole? Had his existence that seemed to hover on the edge of a cliff every day denied him the feel of a woman?

So hard to believe that he was a coldblooded killer, hunted to death by things far worse than he was, monsters she hadn't a clue existed until the day before. Only he was the most dangerous of them all, _truly_ dangerous. Unlike the other assholes that only felt high and mighty when holding a knife to a defenceless woman. He had the power to threaten with his eyes and fulfil his threat with a few short, sharp blows. Yet he was the one who had given her a chance and treated her with respect and trust that she didn't deserve.

He was right, respect had to be earned yet what had she done to gain his? Or perhaps she hadn't earned it since he still hadn't asked her name… Her finger traced the softened line of his normally stiffened jaw, now relaxed and carrying an almost happy expression. What will he do when he wakes up? What will become of her with that cursed map on her back and her past? No matter what was to happen now, he had been all _hers_, even if for just one night, and she had made him understand. It was all worth it and she felt on top of the world, for real, not just pretending as she normally had been, as she was used to.

Vesta slipped his sleeping form a loving smile, refraining from shouting her joy out loud and ruffling his already disorderly hair even more in excitement. Instead she muted 'thanks' to the ceiling, instantly regretting her premature celebration. The light that danced over the dark wooden beams was not that reflecting off the moon, it was too yellow and flickered unnaturally, therefore clearly coming from another source. And given that they were in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, someone or something, most likely up to no good, was disturbing the night. Dante? No, the lights of his bike would have been moving steadily, not erratically like this. Dante with a torch?

Dread-filled alarm and acute agitation severed the happiness that was about the settle so nicely in her insides. She turned her eyes up and sent a muted curse at the ceiling this time, for whoever was out there, yet again was stealing her indulgent moment. What was a girl to do to get some piece and enjoy it in peace?

Now she would have to wake him up, since she could not move with all his weight pressing into her, and he would instantly phase into that depressing rigidness of his. She so wished to stay just a bit longer and watch him in all his liberated handsomeness. Vesta could not help but muse how much he resembled Dante like this, only guessing him at least five years older.

_Maybe I will stay like this for just a bit longer…_ She lifted her hand and slowly drew her finger across his hanging mane to expose his other eye that was so fascinatingly fluttering in his sleep. As she concentrated on his face until her vision blurred, a sudden noisy clamour made her start and she managed to poke her finger right into the apparently worst place imaginable; his slightly parted mouth.

Before he even opened his eyes and she could gasp at the pain that yanked through her finger, he had her wrist pinned into the pillows while his other hand became busy demonstrating his flawless airtight chokehold on her petite throat.

"M-morning," Vesta wheezed out elaborately, still managing to slip him a genuinely fake, wide and stunning smile on her reddening face. Her free arm floundered helplessly in hope to find something better to poke this time, preferably his ribs in the hope that he was ticklish as her oxygen started to dwindle rapidly and her hand really hurt. Yup, her moment of happiness was well, well gone.

All she received in return was a look she hadn't seen before. It was a mixture of panicked disbelief and rushing of lust that he was quickly trying to suppress, apparently failing as she felt his grip on her soften considerably while the rest of him picked up dangerously in steel-bound hardness.

"Morning," she repeated in a more emphatic tone, her throat enjoying freedom from choking, trying to snap him out of his presumable reverie.

Vergil only stared at her, an answer barely skimming the surface of his mind, making its way out of his sternum in the form of a rumbling growl resembling a grumpy, semiconscious "sure it is".

He then cleared his throat as if about to speak, still failing to produce anything coherent. He was out of his wits how to react to an unexpected female in his bed as he had never woken up to one before, only to Dante whom he had no qualms to either pointedly ignore or punish deservingly as Dante was no woman.

With her however, his first instincts were not following his uncompromising and unfailing logic that would lead him to throw her out, or beat the crap out of her; he was actually inclined to kiss her! That had truly never happened before!

All recharged and beaming with renewed fortifying energy, Vergil found himself drawn to her defiant, full lips that she had the habit of biting into in the face of mortal danger instead of fleeing; to the warmth of her body, the luxury of which he never before taken the time to enjoy, with anyone; to her eyes that twinkled with playful childishness tainted yet not destroyed by the true, ugly face of life; he wanted to get lost in the wild scent of her hair and in her overall exhilarating, enthralling wildness that she had indulged him in last night…

All of this was sending loud red alarm bells from the depths of his stubbornly kept protective hard shell that had so far kept him alive and completely alone. Not fully understanding the consequences of letting up and allowing someone through to see his inner self, filled with unhealthy feelings, had scared the crap out of him and he secretly wanted to retreat and never see her again. Only he never ran from a challenge, no matter how destructive or scarily unknown, a challenge he needed to keep close to him for now, and he would always find a way out somehow…

Vergil leaned in for the kiss and she closed her eyes, her mind lingering on the slightly salty, dark chocolate scent mixed up with hot spiciness, like chillies, washing over her. Torturously and aimlessly his lips hovered above hers, their breaths mingling as he was so close she could already taste him.

Their night of passion sparking an insatiable appetite for more, all her natural senses sprang up to life, warping her into a fuzzy world of sexual anticipation. She could feel the kiss spreading like a fever inducing radiation all the way to her toes before he even touched her. Only a little closer and she would show him how to drift away into that space filled only with pleasure, again and again…

Vergil bolted upright and she didn't even hear the tremulous bang until it filtered into her rampant brain through the patchy fog that had gathered around her. By the time she had snapped out of the shock of his bodyweight and warmth vanishing, he was already at the window, hard and rigid expression taking over his serene face, the rest of him considerably softer.

She didn't even have to try hard to see that all of his previously lowered guards had shot right back to high heavens. She should have been relieved that he became distracted away from fully reflecting on her actions which could have still led him to hold disdain for her. But the way his entire soul had darkened again, like a creepy hellish shadow permanently shackled to him, no easement came her way. She would have rather faced his hatred than to watch him fall back into that impenetrable, lonely shell. And besides he would have time to still condemn her at any time after…

The easiest course of action would have been to sneak out quietly while he was dealing with whatever, most likely quite bad, had disrupted them. However there was a slight problem, etched into her back in the form of some kind of an evil map, and this she could not run away from. A nagging itch to find out more, or better yet the necessity to get rid of this curse cut off her choices immensely. On top of it the allure of having access to the delights of close contact with a man that wasn't turned on by carving her back into some fancy drawing, only choking her now and then, was way too irresistible, together with the promise of a wild adventure.

Deciding to stick around, Vesta sprang up from the bed and span round to locate her clothing that lay scattered somewhere on the floor, in many pieces. By the time she spotted her sweater and made a grab for it, Vergil had already pulled on his leather trousers, she didn't fail to notice that he yanked them on commando style, and threw on his vest together with his boots. Visibly livid, he strode to the door with a few exceedingly fast paces, giving her no notice as he disappeared into the hall.

A very bad feeling of bitter dread staking its ground in her stomach, Vesta pulled on her sweater and raced after him, only to find out that the door had been locked. She frantically tried to give the doorknob a few shakes before turning back to look at the window. The bright yellow-green glow that burst into her eyes and the fresh smell of burning wood made her insides churn. Her bad feeling turned to anguish-filled panic as she realized what was happening.

She dropped to the floor, fishing for the rest of her clothes with desperate urgency, finding only one scrap after another. The pieces of her tattered trousers flew over her as she threw them fretfully while crawling across the floor on her knees, even deeper distress taking hold of her already dishevelled nerves. She let out a frustrated cry, not comprehending how he could have ripped her tough clothes to shreds like that. Her panties were torn in half, she noted with a brief ghost of a smile pricking the corner of her mouth as she was holding up the black string hooked on her small finger.

At the sounds that hurled into her ears from outside however, her head snapped up, causing her to jerk out of her brief daydream. She quickly slipped the panties on, tying the torn string on her hip, and rising to her feet, stumbled to the window.

Her eyes instantly widened, hands smacking flat against the _warm_ panes of the window. It wasn't just a fire; it was a blaze, delivered straight from hell as far as she could tell. The giant, ancient oak that thus far guarded the small structure of the stables hidden underneath was engulfed in ten feet tall flames, resembling a colossal torch. It only hit her now how much warmer it got in the bedroom, the air becoming rapidly saturated with heavy heat and the thick odour of burning.

Her breath gaining in weight, her eyes were diverted to a movement below, a blur of dark blue. Vergil was legging it like his life depended on it towards the stables that had just caught fire from the enormous tree. Guarding his face with his arm, his long trench flaring behind, he dove into the flames that burst into life all around the wooden building.

Vesta had her eyes peeled at the hellish ball of fire, the loud rumble that broke out all around her not even making it to her mind. She had never seen fire spread so quickly, so viciously. Was anything even close to normality around here? Chewing on her lip, she focused breathlessly on the rapidly collapsing stables, sweaty palms sliding down the heated panes of the now steam-up window. The wood crackled fiercely, sparks flying high into the air. There was no way he could make it…

Suddenly the heat became unbearable together with a deafening roar. The corner of her eye caught brightness that she had only seen the morning before. Slamming her hands against her ears just like before Vesta dove to the floor at the same time as the window exploded above her, and skidding across the hard floorboards she turned her head to see a massive tongue of pure fire lick at the ceiling and devour the entire upper half of the bedroom.

The heat was blistering, licking at his skin from all sides yet he didn't feel any pain. Deciding to worry about the damage later, in a mad dash he burst into the caving in stables. As if performing a many times rehearsed task, Vergil sailed fluidly through the consuming flames, kicked down the door of the only occupied stall, grabbed the reins and dragged out the wide-eyed, prancing horse.

Moments later, seeing clear stars above and smelling crisper air while the inferno dissipated behind him, Vergil stopped and let go of the reins. His rage filled eyes scoured over the pure white skin of the mare, quickly satisfied that she was unharmed. Then he caught a glimpse of a shadow darker than it should be, lurking amongst the untouched trees not far from the house.

His features taking on a deadly resolve, Vergil turned fully towards the intruder that was now on the move. His eyes caught on flames of blue ice as they fixated on the retreating demon, the scum Vergil grew certain that had marred his plans when he had been so close to finding his goal.

He could not sense demonic blood as well now, but certain signatures of the strongest demon-lords were hard to miss. And this one reeked of it with a faint familiarity that Vergil just couldn't quite place. After all he had encountered many of those of a high rank during his stay in hell and so it wouldn't be uncommon for him to meet a member of such royalty again.

Then there was the fire… It seemed the same like the day before. When the hunter demon that captured him had been burnt to oblivion, yet Vergil came out relatively unscathed. He had felt the same sensation in the stables, the heat that didn't burn him yet decimated everything else to the finest ash.

What the fuck was his game? Who would dare to interfere with the will of the underworld and risk the damnation and wrath of all hell? Someone powerful, possibly even more than he ever had been. Someone just as mad and fearless as he, and his brother was… But why?

Incomprehension gnawing at his mind, Vergil tracked the shadows frantically, narrowing eyes jumping from one perceived movement to the other, trying to find a focus in the settling fuzziness. He was beginning to get restless again, he could feel his right hand shaking, concentration harder to harness.

Whoever it was had the audacity to play against his carefully planned actions, to interfere in the most discreditable manner to save him, and then throw it all in his face by destroying all that had aided his survival in the first place! The solution that was so nearly in his grasp…Vengeance, the only soul truly close to his own, his only loyal servant…now his secret sanctuary, his home…

Something had cut off the words that staggered in his thoughts.

Without even knowing that he had moved, Vergil broke into a fast run towards the silhouette he had momentarily spotted vanishing into the tall dark trees, raving anger and an insurmountable desire to preserve his pride driving him blindly, the inherent danger bleeding into insignificance.

_You like to watch me suffer, to be humiliated, you conceited hypocrite?_ _I will educate you about suffering!_

His jaw setting hard, nails curling painfully into his palms, Vergil flew across the grassy wet plain just as fast as frustration raced through him. A droplet of perspiration trailed down his temple, the highly perceivable presence of hell's powerful descendant slowly pushing aside his recently built up defences. He would need the girl to even get as far as leaving this goddamn place! He never needed help from anyone! At least her company had appeared a lot more endurable as long as she refrained from singing…

Vergil cast a fleeting side-glance to the mansion at the explosive sound of breaking glass, instantly re-tracking his target that remained scarcely in his sights. The acute smell that followed however, the sharp stench of melting of everything his manor was built from, had caused him to skid hard across the slippery ground littered with a solid layer of decaying leaves. His eyes turned to hang on the wall of fire engulfing the mansion like hungry, unforgiving surf pulled in by the realm of the underworld itself.

…_and the woman._ Vergil finished his interrupted thought, the bright yellow-greenish flicker reflecting in his widening eyes as he ended up staring at the gaping hole that used to be the window of the spare bedroom, now filled with almost translucent, silent sheet of flames. This was no ordinary fire, he quickly surmised. This was pure energy, harnessed from a source capable of gradually melting down even the hardest stone…the sun?

Vergil zoomed out his sight and took in the shape of a nearly perfect sphere, suspended in its brilliance against the endless, star dotted blackness the slowly receding night had offered as an effective backdrop. His brows knitted into a thoughtful scowl. He had not heard of such power, to bend sun's elements to someone's will to the point of targeting a very precise area, without causing any serious harm to all else in its near proximity.

Only a few seconds had elapsed since the shatter of the windows, his fast processing mind had already exhausted all of the variants, and his confusion had only deepened. Who was the target? If it was him, then why spare him the day before and attempt to kill him the next? It seemed more logical that he had been drawn out to the open, hence leaving the girl alone...

Before he finished his last deliberation, his eyes snapped back to the white-hot raging inferno. If she was the mark, she would not stand a chance, and now, the manor being swallowed from all sides, _he_ had no chance of getting to her.

The unsettling feeling that somehow she had been involved in all this resonated over his rapidly faltering nerves. Had she served her purpose and was no longer required? His suspicions had strengthen his urge to drag her out and keep her close, considering he still needed her alive to have any chance at uncovering the two-millennia hidden secret that his father was so kind to bury so close to his home, only to have the key to it stolen from under his nose by humans. How his father, and his brother had trusted them so blindly for so long he would never fathom.

In all this screwed up mess, it did not matter if she was an enemy or an ally, once his full power has been restored using daddy's little secret magic vault, he could deal with her accordingly, all of them…

The loud rumble of a shattering wall had made his brain jump a hundred miles ahead at the expense of his precious energy, drawn upon to sustain his barriers deflecting the constant barrage of 'white' chatter from hell. Blinking, he nearly collapsed to one knee at the pain that surged through an open gap, yet he managed to quickly seal it while securing a possible way out in his mind.

Straightening up, Vergil confirmed, that the demon's signature still lingered nearby, although gradually diminishing. To go through this trouble, whoever it was, must have known Vergil well enough to expect certain behaviour…and he was going to derail that shithead off his tracks.

Just as a long resounding snap finished carving a wide crack in the wall of the west wing, Vergil's body began to shake as if he was convulsing. A deep, low guttural rumble slowly made its way out of his depths, taking over the ensued silence. Then his head snapped backwards and Vergil unleashed an uninhibited vociferous laugh that echoed deep into the heat suffocated darkness.

Suppressing the tease of a cough his vocals, unused in such a drastic way, were trying to induce, a ghost of a smirk flashed across his face as the sphere of energy began to falter. The crack that his distraction had created was all that he needed.

To his relief he spotted a movement beyond the smouldering hole of the window, soon followed by the appearance of a messy brown head. This implied that the manipulated energy had not penetrated far enough to turn her to dust, or indeed to a melted popsicle.

Vergil afforded himself a smidgeon of self satisfaction before he promptly returned to full concentration, underlined by a faultless frigid expression. His voice matched his face as he commanded firmly.

"Jump! Now!"

"Are you kidding? It's too far!" he saw her lean over the burnt frame of the window, shaking her head.

"It's a lot further to hell! Now jump," Vergil insisted, the corner of his eye catching a glimmer of the energy that was already closing up again, fast. He estimated that in ten seconds she would explode into a shower of bright sparks.

"Um, aren't you going to catch me?" she looked at the ground that seemed so hard and far away, her voice trembling together with her hands.

His features somewhat softened as he met her concerned eyes, in spite of the loud rumble of the stone falling down from the beheaded gargoyles, announcing the rapidly approaching proximity of the deadly demonic surge.

"Hmpf," Vergil stepped closer to the wall. Perhaps she would only slow him down if she had broken her ankle, or worse. At that thought, he extended out his arms, his face betraying his lingering reluctance. The role of a maiden rescuer did not form a part of his nature, nor his life. How unseemly. She better repay him back, with interest! Only Dante would have fallen a victim to such deplorable and laughable traits. And his father…

The negligible pull on his arms didn't even jerk him out of the train of his thoughts. He stood there still like a stiff statue, peering at the melting wall that snapped back to bright yellow in front of him, even as Vesta tried to wiggle free from his arms.

"You can let me down now," interrupted from his deliberation, Vergil refocused on the slightly smouldering body in his arms, suddenly pondering how light it was and warm, soft, so easy to carry…

Warm, soft… He realised she was half naked and promptly dropped her, his voice turning angered. "Why didn't you dress? Have you not considered it inappropriate to travel in your underwear?"

Vesta drew in a sharp breath, stunned. "Well I would have if you didn't so overzealously rip my clothes off and rendered them unusable!" she crossed her arms resentfully. "Not that I didn't enjoy it," she mumbled unintelligibly to herself, pinning him with a pointed glare, steam still rising out of her.

They were both so focused on each other, ignoring the diabolical whirring sphere of gold that resumed its destructive consumption of the helplessly writhing mansion.

"I did no such…," Vergil protested, eyes narrowing at the petite woman in front of him. He truly could not recall all the details but he was certain he would not resort to such Dante-like, animalistic behaviour.

"You did too!" the flat of her palm pushed into his chest half playfully, half annoyed, smile tugging at her lips at his solemn denial. Vergil stumbled backwards, an enormous crash resounding all around them as the whole side of the west wing collapsed into a pile of burning rubble.

"I did not! Tell me, how could I possibly be so foresightless as to deprive you of your clothes when I had planned to take you along with me? And I do _not_ travel with naked women!" he flashed his brows at her, despite knowing his statement was rather flawed as he couldn't have known about the fire but he took the gamble that she wouldn't notice. She didn't.

His hand gripped hers as she tried to smack him, her mouth ajar in astonishment. "For your information you quite enjoyed stripping me of my clothes, and as far as I recall you didn't mind at all having a _naked_ _woman_ with you in your bed last night!"

At the intensity of the frozen look he gave her, she thought momentarily that he was going to smite her, and recoiled, but instead he smashed her against him, and she could feel his chest rising and falling into her with increasing vigour and frequency.

"I stand my ground. You have no proof," he said surprisingly calmly despite his outward flurry, a suggestion of a smirk lifting the corners of his lips; he did remember the latter part of her statement.

"Then you better confess now hombre, or else I will have to resort to singing!" she breathed into his face fiercely, her own heart beat quickening, a different kind of heat replacing that she was exposed to in the vicinity of the blazing fire.

"You would not dare!" he uttered coldly, yet the iceberg in his eyes swirled with warmth that began to transform into a raging blue inferno.

"Try me. Spill it now, or start imagining the torture," she heard herself say adamantly, long entrapped by his deeply hypnotic gaze, the horrible sounds of burning wood and falling stone fading away.

"I fear nothing," Vergil peered into her soul with his eyes ablaze, and wound his arm round her bare waist tightly, showing he was not prepared to run from anyone's threats.

Vergil also recalled what he was compelled to do after waking up, before so rudely interrupted. Giving up was not in his nature…and on the side, his mental defences demanded a slight reinforcement, so a test was in order, sort of a try before you buy…

"However as a precaution, I feel the need to choose the lesser of two evils and shut you up," with that his mouth descended onto hers, and he swept her downwards in an arc, neither of them taking notice as the last standing stone wall folded in with an ear-popping explosion that sent a blast of flying remains of his home whizzing past their closely pressed forms, making his coat flare away from his strung-up body.

As the tremendous noise thundered all around them and shook the ground, all Vergil could feel were her soft, sweetly moistened lips, her fervour as she responded without a note of hesitation, skilfully using her whole body to draw him into more pleasure. The thick black smoke escaping from the demolished remains went straight past his senses as he drank in her fresh and wild, sex filled scent, plunging his hand roughly into the silk woven trusses of her hair to set even more of her alluring essence free.

Vergil pressed himself hard into her and gave into the engaging sensations until the outside destruction had melted away completely, and he felt invigorated, the fortifying energy flowing straight to repair the damage that he had barely managed to patch up earlier.

He pulled up from her with a satisfied grunt, letting her go. _Yes, that will do nicely._ Steady and collected, and pleased, he strode to the pile of smouldering rubble that had been his home. The hellish sphere was gone and so was the demonic presence, yet everything else had perished with it. He had now no choice but to leave…with her…

Yes, indeed, she would go with him, Vesta reassured herself, glowing and breathless. Maybe she should threaten him more often, with guns or with singing, she thought, putting the idea of tackling him to the ground on hold as she pondered why he pulled away so abruptly. He seemed so calm now… Was he just teasing her?

Still, she really had to learn to be more considerate, he had just lost another big piece of his life and all she could think about was her happiness and his closeness! So instead, she approached his back quietly, trying to come up with some encouraging, supportive words.

"Bloody hell, those creepy town-folk sure are annoyingly persistent! First they try to kill you and now they smoke you out," she started, adding a rueful smile. Sensing that it probably didn't help at all as he hadn't moved, she tried a different approach, "I really am sorry. Well if it helps, I won't be asking for my rent money back. Although you know, you shouldn't rent a place out if you are on the most wanted list…," she stopped abruptly as he turned to her, with a stare that could freeze the entire lake. She really needed a complete rework of her encouragement skills.

Keen to change the subject completely, Vesta put on her best smile. "So we are going treasure hunting?" she asked cheerfully, wondering why he couldn't just freeze the fire with his eyes earlier.

Her words ran through his mind, causing him to shift his brain into a higher gear yet again. '_First they try to kill you and now they smoke you out_.' There were two sides to this, it had occurred to him. Someone whom he hadn't met yet trying to prevent him from regaining his power, and then that high ranking devil keen on expediting Vergil's trip to his father's badly guarded secret. Whether for his own gains or working for someone else, the demon seemed to feel the need to send Vergil on his way, and the girl had been clearly involved, whether knowingly or not…didn't matter, did it? Either way, this could turn out real ugly…

"Yes, only you cannot come. Without sufficient clothes, in this cold, the day and a half horse ride would be impossible for you to cope with," he attempted to sound unconcerned but the discomfiture underneath was too vivid. How could he protect her with that powerful devil wanting her dead, yet how could he survive himself without her?

Slightly miffed that he had given up on her so easily but reading his discomfort, Vesta pointed jovially to her car that stood untouched by the smouldering mansion. "That means a day's drive, in warmth and comfort, and without bruised thighs," she waltzed to her car merrily, hoping the keys were still in there if the stranger hadn't taken them the night before.

"Sorry to spoil the fun, but there are no roads where the map leads, even an experienced horse would be well pushed to negotiate the mountainous terrain later on," Vergil grumbled, his eyes scouring the charred remains with feigned dispassion, one leg bent on top of decapitated gargoyle, elbow casually on his knee.

"Oh, well, then _helloooo_ bruised bottom, cause I have some spare clothes in the boot," she exclaimed with undiminished enthusiasm, seeing the keys still dangling from the ignition.

Vergil couldn't stop the dark chuckle trickle out of his throat. Does nothing throw that woman off her deranged rails? Was she not just almost burned alive? She truly does not know what she is getting herself into…just as well. He did feel however a strange contentment touch his stomach at the knowledge that she would be coming along, despite it all being way too convenient and inconvenient at the same time…

"Hey, how come it's so close? Isn't that a bit _convenient_?" she called out suddenly from behind the car and Vergil looked up with a raised brow to see she was changing.

_You don't say_. "Would you prefer to travel longer and put your buttocks in danger of losing all elasticity?" Vergil smoothly avoided having to answer what he didn't deem necessary for her to know, returning to search through the rubble. A weapon would have been useful to keep her in check, and any devils of course.

"Well you do owe me a massage," she peeked at him from behind the open boot, giving him a wry face.

Indeed, he would need a weapon for defence in case of uncontrollable eventualities and attacks by femmes in heat; his eyes zoomed in on a shiny object half buried under a piece of smoking beam.

"You can always walk," Vergil remarked snidely, taking a stroll to the faint gleam, dimmed in the dissipating darkness. He crouched down and pulled the object out. Surprise and disappointment registered on his face. It wasn't his katana, but a nine inch hunting knife, the one that the scumbag had pulled out on the girl. Vergil let out a low growl. Still, at least it hadn't melted in the heat, very surprisingly; he wiped it on his trousers and slid it behind his belt.

"Ooor, I could always drive off…" she retorted amusedly, closing the boot with a pointedly loud bang. Vergil automatically drew the knife, torn between pinning her to a tree should she dare to leave, and letting her actually go. Either way, she couldn't leave until he had figured out how to destroy that map carved into her back…

Somewhat embittered that she simply walked towards him, hence hindering the opportune moment to practise his knife throwing skills, he quickly lit up at her new appearance. She had on tightly fitting dark-gray combat outfit, complimented with matching knee high boots and a skin clinging black vest that left little to no imagination under her open and looser combat jacket. A small backpack thrown over her shoulder, all in all she seemed ready for battle, what battle though he wasn't prepared to guess…

"…but, I'd still prefer the massage," she smiled at him innocently, reaching his position. "So, where is the transport?" she looked around expectantly.

Tearing his eyes off her low neckline, Vergil simply put two fingers into his mouth and a piercing whistle cut through the first signs of daylight fighting to drive off the night.

The rumble of a speed hungry bike cut to a brief silence, replaced by the crunch of thick soled boots. Then all that disturbed the stillness of the awakening day was a heavily beating heart and erratic, ragged breaths. Dante stood at the edge of the decimated mansion, taking in the blackened, smouldering remains with dread-filled panic in his wide blue eyes.

He could smell the heavy smoke from afar, yet his mind refused to believe it until the horrific view came to his sights as he was speeding down the winding path lit by the first rays of daylight.

Willing himself to gather some composure, he couldn't stop his body from shaking when he glanced around, afraid of what he might find. Then he registered the car, unscratched and intact near the ruins. So she _did_ come back…bad news for Vergil and for her…perhaps to her death…

Dante stepped onto the melted debris, searching frantically through the ashes and dying down flames, ignoring the thick black smoke that stung his eyes and filled his throat. Coughing out the deadly fumes, Dante bent down to pick up something sticking out from behind a partially standing wall.

His cough ceased suddenly as he stopped taking in air, eyes freezing at the sight of what he had pulled out. It was Vergil's katana, the white silk handle completely burned off, the beautiful, folded-steel blade melted and rendered unusable. Staring at the sword, the molten metal blurred even more right in front of him and Dante nearly flinched before realising that nothing was happening, it was only tears were filling his eyes.

Vergil would never leave it behind, even if the blade wasn't Yamato. Nothing could have survived that heat. He was too late. He was too fucking late again!

He should have been here! And now he lost it all, all over again like an incurable nightmare that would never go away. Vergil was gone and this time he might not come back...

_Fuck bro…is this how not saying goodbye feels? Like you said about our mother the other day? _

_Sorry I didn't get it then._

_Now I do…and…and it frigging blows…_

* * *

_Damn, Dante just missed them! Will he have the chance to save Vergil as he wanted? Or will Vesta have to step up her efforts? Would she be enough? Looks pretty unlikely, right? Or does it! Big big trouble is coming and the toughest journey yet for them all…_

_Drop me a line please and tell me your thoughts, reactions, feelings. They are all so important to me! Trust me, I know, I am the author! You guys are my inspiration! So thank you for all the support, you are all amazing and I love you guys!_

_Review guide? Do you still need it? Do I hear yes? Nope, can't hear you… Speak louder! Press the review button! There, now I can hear ya! Right a quick one then, 2 steps only:_

_1) Cook someone you like a really nice, delicious dinner, their favourite food preferably ;o)_

_2) After eating press Review and ask the person to type in what they thought about the food_

_There, all done! Only if you are a really terrible cook I would appreciate if you found another way to review ;o)_


	17. Close to a devil, far from evil

**Close to a devil, far from evil**

"You know, it has been hours…my bum is so numb I think the elasticity will never be the same again!" Vesta shifted awkwardly, not even feeling the rhythmic bouncing anymore. In fact the numbness had been spreading down to her legs for some time but she didn't want to reach down and check they were still attached, as he might not have even noticed should she fall off. Vergil wasn't responding to her even now, when she was being rather loud. Was he asleep?

The wild scenery was silently flying by in the echoes of the steady, rapid beat of two sets of hooves. It had become her only companion, rhythmic music in her head as she watched the white sprinkled trees and lonely fairytale meadows flash by. The rolling hills soon turned into steeper, more treacherous terrain, stonier and scrubbier with fewer clearings in between. Everything was gaining in whiteness as if the snow was falling yet the sky bloomed into a gorgeous clear-blue day.

The horse had been bravely skidding down a narrow forest path that led to another clearing with scattered patches of snow, shimmering invitingly in the winter sun. "Um, a little break?" Silence spoiled her hopeful mood as she spotted the beautiful meadow ahead. It was sheltered by a thick lush forest on one side that reflected perfectly in a small black lake on the other, and she gathered a strong itch to run around in the deep tufts of snow dusted grass and get to feel her lower body again. A very strong itch…

"Surely the she-horse must be getting tired? …what is her name? Oh, I forgot, no names… I could complain about you sleeping with women without knowing their names but that would just make me a hypocrite, and besides I have this very intuitive, nagging feeling that you have never actually been with a woman before…"

There was a strange sway and the sky flashed in front of her eyes before she felt her leg crushed by something cold on one side and something warm on the other. Oh yes, she definitely felt that! Her legs were there and even still had a sense of feeling in them!

"O-u-ch!" she pronounced her discomfort, staring at the dark blue coat in front of her as it began to rise…together with her uncrushed leg. After a second-long ponder about how on earth he managed to glide upwards like that Vesta smacked herself mentally, realising the horse simply got up again, with him still attached. Only…she was left on the ground…thank god!

Vergil seemed like he was going to walk off without her but then he half turned his head. "Perhaps it would be wise to let the mare rest for a while," he surmised nonchalantly, jumping off easily like he had just climbed on a moment ago, for the fun of it.

Stunned on so many levels, she followed him with her murderous glare, her mouth ajar, as he led the mare to the lake, assumingly for a rest and for a drink. _That was my idea you jerk! And thanks for your concern…next time you can kiss the horse when you feel the urge, hombre! _

Vesta wanted to get up and march off into the wilderness in protest but as her legs were not quite with her yet she resorted to rummaging in her rucksack and pulled out a tasty snack. Surely he must have been hungry, her stomach had been denouncing her cruel negligence ever since they left that morning. Just as well she still had her shopping in the car and stuffed as much food as she could in her travel bag.

She sat up a little in the crisp snow and bit into her generously loaded sandwich with loud appreciation. "Mmmm, tha, hm, really if gooood," she goaded with her mouth full, teasing. Her taunt however went unanswered. She should have known that he would only go and sit quietly on a stone a good distance from her, on high alert, intense blues scouring the thick woods as if something was about to jump out at any moment. Did he really only have something to say when he felt like killing something? Like her?

"Come on, come sit over here and have some food," she patted on the snow next to her, smiling generously. She could never really stay mad for very long, and he was so darn cute when brooding. If only he didn't have to become so distant and cold again…now that he didn't hate her anymore, and she wanted so badly to be close to him.

Letting out a defeated sigh after devouring her sandwich hungrily, when he didn't even once look at her, Vesta capitulated. "Ok, I get it, you need your silence. We all need something, don't we? Well, I won't bother you anymore, but first, there is something I do have to get off my chest," Vesta watched him carefully, the corner of her lip rising as she spied him stir.

"I just want to ask you not to blame Dante for giving me the gun. He only did it because he was worried about you, and I, well, I never wanted to shoot you either," she sent him a sincere look, getting only a view of his stony profile in return.

"I couldn't have cared less about the gun," he mumbled so quietly she almost didn't hear him. Vesta gaped at him incredulously, confusion filling up the space left empty in the complete abandonment of the only reason he had given to reacting so violently after they had kissed the first time.

"Oh. So was our company so unbearable, you had to chuck us out?" she blurted out crossly, not understanding what he had meant.

Rising, he swivelled his head to her, fire kindling on its own in his frozen eyes. "You don't get it do you. I could hurt or kill you, or Dante, or anyone for that matter, at any time, without being able to stop myself or have any recollection of ever doing such afterwards. Therefore, if I choose to take measures to keep away as far as possible from everybody, it is my damn right not to be nagged about it!"

Just barely managing to ignore his talent to say things in the most ridiculous way, Vesta still didn't fail to gape at him like he had just pulled out a butcher knife with an engagement ring stuck on its end. Mulling it over in her head, she recalled how he nearly strangled her, several times, while in some sort of a state of utter derangement. Hadn't she told him already that he was insane and dangerous, while he tried suggesting that she actually would have been safer with him? Hadn't he slept with her last night and kissed her this morning? And now he admits to having some urges to kill everything that moved and wants to stay away? All right, that made complete sense!

"So you kicked us out to keep us safe? Then why did you take me with you now?" Vesta shook her head, miffed and unbearably confused. Why did everything have to be so complicated and twisted with him?

"Whether I kill you or not is not certain, however while the map is a part of you, your death is inevitable. The only way to erase it is to go where it leads…and I am the one who knows where it leads to," Vergil said as if it was all completely normal, an everyday chatter. He stood unmoving, not coming closer to her or backing away, face devoid of anything that could disclose the validity of his statement.

"Uh huh," she nodded numbly, "so you are doing this for me…," her self-convincing tone wasn't quite working.

The mare came up from behind him, shaking her head wildly. Well at least someone was honest, Vesta thought mordantly, fobbing off the swarm of tiny flies that the horse's tail was swatting off as they persistently tried to land on the mare's snow-white skin.

"I am merely explaining why you would be wise to remain close while refraining from asking me to come closer," his usually even voice suffered a little kink somewhere in the middle, and he promptly cleared his throat, realising how awkwardly it came out.

Vergil felt a pain of unease, crossed with some strange nervousness, stab at his stomach. How could he explain, not only to her but even to himself, that he was afraid to be too near to her and not close enough at the same time? Being alone was so much easier…

"Oh sure. So how close is close?" she started to get up pulling out a sarcastic face, feeling her blood suddenly flow quite generously thanks to her rising agitation and hurt. "Do you mean like last night close…or…this close…," she teased bitingly and started to back away, her hand gesturing for him to tell her how far she quite likely needed to stay.

Her brief moment of revenge was cut off however seeing the painful confusion reflecting in his eyes. Vesta stopped, a few paces in front of the dark lake, a hundred feet away from him, and all she wanted to do was to run to him and hug him. He really hadn't a clue how to be with someone…

Vesta shook all the weight from her shoulders, deciding to sod her female pride and screw the fact that he could kill her, at least she could be happy, _for_ _real_ and not only pretend, even if it was to be yet again short lived. She never believed that he would do it anyway, he seemed to have played to be more evil than he could possibly be. Her face lit up with the most beautiful smile as she prepared herself to jump into his arms. Only he did something she totally didn't expect…

Vergil broke out into a fast run across the snow towards her, his expression filled with desperate urgency. Then the time seemed to have struggled in its flow and it slowed right down, when she felt the heat. Her eyes dipped down, mouth falling ajar as she watched the blanket of snow disappear from under her feet, the tremendous heat now surrounding her from all sides. She stole a glance to the side to see the lake boil, bubbles spurting out everywhere like from a volcanic mud pool, fish dead and floating with their bellies turned to greet the searing air.

A landslide of emotions brought her to her knees even though she still remained standing. She turned back to look at Vergil, he was still too far, too far when she was already dying, when she still hadn't been happy enough.

A tear rolled off from the corner of her eye never to slide down her cheek as it evaporated almost instantly, turning into a stinging dry patch. The sun's blaze stung her skin, like a thousand little needles plunging into every pore of her, tiny blisters erupting all over. It hurt, it really hurt. Her vision began to turn into a wall of yellow, obscuring her last view of him, and she was left alone again with the pain. She would have screamed only the heat stole her voice, so she just closed her eyes, and thinking of her last real moments of pure contentment while in his embrace, she began to fall into the boiling inferno behind her.

Clinging to her memories, it was as if she could feel it, his arms wrapping around her, his hotness fending off all the evil that roamed this world. She dived into an ease, opening her eyes to see those glacial blues staring down at her not with hate but with tender concern. It was not so bad to die when all she could think of were those eyes. If only they didn't turn away and let the pain come back again, it stung so much…

She slapped at the vision weakly, trying to get him to look back at her. He didn't stop her hand, and she felt her fingers touch his skin, it felt so real. She was floating in the air, the ground was shaking under her and everything seemed to be covered with a sheet of fire all around, it was so hot.

"Try not to move," his deep, steady voice reached out to her from the glowing haze, crashing through the pain, soothing and calming. The burning began to ease as coldness seeped into her body from below. His eyes returned, warm and filled with raging fury, and she knew he wasn't just an illusion…

"I am not dead…," she let out a strangled wheeze, her throat so dry she couldn't even lick her crackled lips.

"No, not yet," Vergil slipped his arms from under her and gathered up some snow in his hands, piling it on top of her smoking clothes. He then squeezed a handful of snow, letting it fuse into a melting piece of ice, and ran it over her burnt lips.

"And there you are, so close…," she lifted her hand, her finger tracing his cheek. "…so you see, you are not the one to kill me," her voice was lacking in strength but heaving with confidence.

"Perhaps…you are right," he searched her eyes for any signs of hidden fear but found none. If she knew the score and accepted it, then he would too… He slipped one hand into the cold snow under her head and lifted her slightly so that he could reach her without touching her too much. Leaning down, he let his lips glide towards hers…

An enormous tremor shook the ground again and Vergil instinctively dropped on top of her, covering her body with his own. Vesta's eyes widened at the pain as his weight pushed into her, but then she saw the giant tongue of pure molten fire flood the air above them and she gasped silently.

The meadow briefly darkened as if the sun had been swallowed by an even more powerful and sinister force than its own white-hot fury. The menacing yellow sheen began to swirl and vibrate as a deep rumble surged through the dimness that enveloped them. Then a voice, partly human, partly distorted by hollowness and malice that could have only been born of the deepest darkness, emerged from the burning woods.

"Get away from her Vergil, she is mine," the tone was dark and dangerous, uncompromising.

Two eyes looked up, holding back a searing inferno of a different kind; a burning, stinging blue ice. "Make me!" Vergil snarled out, his voice surpassing the finality of the illusive entity.

In response a row of trees right behind them exploded into one gigantic ball of searing fire but then the inferno died down just as suddenly, leaving smouldering black skeletons in its wake. Vergil's lip curled upward in silent victory and in mocking of his enemy's extravagant tantrum. It wasn't hard to surmise that the demon would not risk killing him in order to get to the girl, at least not yet. Only the reason _why_ was still eluding him and it made him put up his guard on even higher alert.

"Make you? I won't have to do a thing as you will release her to me on your own will," the dark voice returned with surprising calmness, with a hint of chilling anticipation that hung threateningly in the air and crawled unpleasantly down Vergil's spine. He didn't like that feel one bit.

The demon continued to speak from the shadows, his voice gaining a note of amusement. "After all, why would you shield shameless scum such as her? Didn't she have the audacity to infiltrate your own home under false pretences, with the intention to laugh in your face while defiling every precious memory you held with her filthy, despicable orgies? It gave her a great twisted pleasure, knowing, that you were completely oblivious to the fact…that she is the daughter of your worst enemy! How sick a revenge can one plot to exact, _Vergil_…"

"What sick game are _you_ plotting! What is it to you, _demon_! I sense no such traits in her!" Vergil growled out, subconsciously digging his fingers deep into the snow, clawing at the frozen ground underneath until his fingers bled. He felt her shaking under him, or perhaps it was him shaking, he couldn't quite tell but at the same time he couldn't tear his eyes from the darkness aflame to look down.

"Watch your mouth and watch your back. You are weak! You have to destroy her before she destroys us all. Give her to me now and I will deal with the scum in a way that the spawn of Mundus deserves," the shadows spat out venomously and stirred, and Vergil narrowed his eyes in hope of catching a glimpse of the figure he thought that would emerge. No one did.

"Go fuck yourself!" Vergil jumped up, fuming.

His rage seemed to have amused the demon as the voice produced a dark, mordant chuckle and trailed off into the depths of the forest, "I'll be waiting…"

"For what! To get fucked? That's given!" Vergil snarled in blinding frenzy, unable to form a more sophisticated response. The pungent presence of hell had already vanished, yet it failed to alleviate his acute agitation. Raking his hair with his bleeding fingers, he paced furiously back and forth through the melted snow, boots splashing in the pools of water. Turning so brusquely he nearly lost balance, his smouldering eyes fell upon the girl lying on the exposed carpet of grass.

She was shaking her head resolutely, utter bewilderment etched in the tears flowing freely down her flushed cheeks.

Vergil turned away from her, hesitating, his hand plunging back into his blood stained hair. "Damn it all to hell!" he yelled at the dead lake, the noise evoking no movement apart from a slight, laboured motion behind him. Vergil felt her approach from behind, and a small, breaking voice whispered in his ear.

"I haven't done what he said. I have made some stupid choices but never on purpose, and never to hurt you or anyone else. As for my father, I don't know who my parents were and I never cared, well, at least not until now…," her finger touched his neck, her voice barely carried on her hot breath, "I don't want to destroy _anything_… So, I'm just going to…," she turned gingerly and started to walk away from him.

"Where do you think you are going!" he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her sharply back. "I am not quick to take the word of a lowlife, hot-air blowing delinquent prick! And I need you here!" giving her no chance to protest or respond, Vergil crushed her into him and sealed her mouth ferociously with his.

Her tears drying almost instantly, Vesta became grateful that he had so insightfully cooled her with the snow earlier as the flush of hotness that surged through her body at that very moment would have made her self-combust should she still be burning from the effects of the fire on top of it. His body pressed to her so tensely still brought back remnants of the pain but she didn't care about that, if only he wasn't pressing his knee into her bladder…

"Mmmhmm, I, aaahhh, really, oww, need to…," Vesta tried in vain to detach herself from his iron grip, wondering what the strange guy in the woods meant by Vergil being weak. She knew that she was no invertebrate when it came to strength but she still couldn't even as much as move a finger when he wanted to have his own way. Damn the horse for shaking up her bladder as she would have rather stayed attached to Vergil while he was so hot damn determined!

"It'll only take a darn minute!" Vergil sucked in air before assailing her mouth with unyielding ardency, his mind fighting to despatch all evil back to its rightful place in hell. He could sense his nerves untangle and stretch out as the rays of pleasure coursed through him and he began to relax against her. Feeling this Vesta took her chance and grabbing his face, with some effort, she managed to abstract him from her mouth.

"I need to have a tinkle," she gabbled out, smiling innocently.

Immense scowl and deepening blue eyes met her in response. "Can't it wait?"

When she shook her head, his growl held a note of displeasure but he let her go. Vesta licked his taste from her lips absently and set to walk away when he grabbed her arm again.

"Do it right here. I don't want to waste time in this stinking hole, the smoke attracts attention," he gave her a look that meant he was dead serious, before looking up at the blackened sky.

Oh so kissing her was essential, but taking a leak wasn't? Irked, Vesta crouched right in front of him and pulled down her trousers together with a generous grimace. Rolling his eyes royally, Vergil gallantly steered his eyes away, folding his arms. He stood motionless, only his sharp blues sweeping over the burnt terrain, searching for a suitable exit. His nose took in the smoky air, it was too quiet and he didn't like it. Too quiet indeed, shouldn't she have been 'tinkling' already?

"What's taking so long, hurry it up," Vergil uttered, not taking his sights off the smouldering woods.

"It'll only take a darn minute!" she used his words and tone automatically, causing him to turn his head back with a raised eyebrow. Pulling out a sheepish smile, she shrugged, explaining, "it's not coming out…"

Letting the other eyebrow join his first high up on his forehead, Vergil flung his fingers into his mouth and produced an ear-splitting whizz. She was still sternly gazing up at him when the sound of trickling water brought her back to earth.

"There you go! Now hurry up, we are leaving," Vergil reached behind him and waited for the reins to come to his hand. She could swear he had a smirk planted on his face but now it disappeared from her view.

"Wow, don't you have some unusual talents!" Vesta quickly shook her bum and pulled her combats back on, getting up. But before she could fully fasten her belt Vergil whisked her up onto the mare's back.

"You have seen nothing yet," he somehow jumped up really high, and twisting in the air landed in front of her on the horse.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Vesta grinned into his back with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, sneaking her arms round his waist. He said he needed her! And she had a feeling that she could just shut him up with a kiss should he show the tendency to kill her, or at any other time for that matter. Things were going to be much better from now on…

He led them slowly out through the charred woods, avoiding the areas that still burned or became saturated with too much black smoke. Everywhere they looked blackened stumps of trees and ashen ground lay at the mercy of the dying fire, until suddenly they weaved their way into a lush, untouched part of the forest as if there was an invisible wall that shielded it from the immense blaze.

Glancing at the carnage behind them, Vesta recalled the terrible words of the man in the woods and Vergil's reaction. She knew now the fire that decimated the mansion was caused by that man, the same man that she had heard twice before. The same voice that had told her he wanted what was his and that her funeral would be just as fitting as that of the rat. But she didn't know him, why would he want her dead? What did he want? Did it have to do with that darn map? But then why didn't he want to kill Vergil too since he had seen it as well? Would she even learn the truth before dying?

Holding in the unwanted trepidation that began to sully her happy daydreaming and squirm in her stomach like a tortured being, she turned back to Vergil. Staring at the back of his neck for some time while biting her lip, she waited to gather her wits to ask, affording to digressed and ponder how relaxed he looked, even slouching a little as if he had no care in the world.

She blinked and returned to her intended question. "You called…_him_ a demon… Why did you say that?"

"Because he _is_ a demon," Vergil said unconcernedly, not bothering to look away and deviate from steering them through the thick brushwood with one finger lightly holding the reins.

"But how do you know that? I mean, I never even knew they existed…until now," her tone lightly insistent with interest, she still couldn't help but wonder how she managed to miss out on this whole hidden world.

"Because," he spoke quietly in that smooth deep voice of his, "I already told you, I am one."

She smiled. "So sorry, but hey, nobody is perfect," she patted him on his shoulder sympathetically, then placed her hands behind her on the mare's ass, leaning back a bit to be able to see him better. "You sure don't look like one. I mean aren't they all supposed to be really ugly?"

Vergil just tilted his head, closing his eyes, politely ignoring her uneducated ignorance. The horse's hooves were stepping softly over scattered patches of snow, mounds of fluffy moss and carpets of wet pine needles, creating a calming rocking motion that became part of him. On top of it he found her softly edged, unbothered voice surprisingly pleasant.

"Well at least you were able to deter this expert arsonist demon guy. With your powers, right? Invisible as they are," she curled up her lip. "Well, I'm not going to thank you since you don't like that kind of thing but I am not that unappreciative either so I will thank the horse instead, what's her name again?"

"Mercy," came a monotonous answer.

_Aha, so we have a name_, Vesta rejoiced mentally, pleased with her ability to ease him into talking, or was it trickery? Or maybe he was a lot less evil than he took credit for, her mind wondered, despite the demon thing which she still didn't believe. He was unusually strong, she gave him that, but that appeared to be all; the flames and ice coming out of his eyes were deeply disturbing but non-destructive. And that other guy? So far he only seemed to know how to use matches…

"Thanks Mercy for saving my ass," she smacked the horse appreciatively, wishing she could have thanked Vergil instead, in the same way. "And sorry that asshole burned down your home, I'd hate it to be my fault but clearly that creep seems to have something against me…"

"I hated it anyway," Vergil interjected, his voice calm and speculative. "I was dead set on redecorating for some time now. The new layout was serving no justice to the manor's original glory."

Vesta glared at his swaying back in amazement before opening her mouth again. "You know I have never met anyone who had lost everything and still managed to keep it together like you do and not complain even once."

"How many people is it that you have met?" it was a sincere, indifferent question that nearly made her laugh.

"Oh believe me, plenty," Vesta mused with a tailing snicker. "Just the wrong kind…," she added less joyfully.

Iceberg blues came to life again from under opening eyelids and swivelled to the side. "Indeed."

"But I have a feeling this is all going to change," speaking quietly she leaned forward again and wrapping her arms around him, rested her cheek against his back.

They fell into comfortable silence, the rhythmic sound of hooves pounding into the ground freeing them from all the chaotic thoughts that tried so mercilessly encroach on their minds.

The trees were becoming scarcer, coated more and more by amazing shapes of mossy cocoons that in turn were wrapped up by thin dusting of snow. Larger and taller rocks begun to rise all around them, sheer imposing dark gray domes of polished stone, one with two narrow recessions spouting out misted sprays of water that rushed down the smooth rock face as if the mountain was weeping.

Vesta clung to Vergil tensely as the terrain curled upwards and the heavier mounds of snow made it hard to see where it was safe to go. Mercy bravely plodded on, her strong muscles heaving as she lifted them both higher and higher, relentlessly pushing on as if the mare could smell the path hidden underneath the fallen snow. Yet with each step the mighty feet found it harder to connect with stable ground, causing stones roll down with crashing sounds that echoed loudly against the masses of rock around them and into the deep valley below.

Her eyes anchored at the top of the hill that didn't seem to be coming closer quickly enough, Vesta was determined to ignore the steep precipice below, drawing some degree of reassurance from Vergil's calmness, as he seemed to be in some state of indolence, unbothered about the overt danger of them falling to their deaths at any moment.

With her eyes half closed and head spinning from vertigo Vesta secretly thanked the gods when she felt the horse level up beneath her, seemingly reaching the top of the mountain. Heights were just not her thing at all, eliciting more fear in her than the sharp edge of a knife glistening maliciously in the corner of her eye.

Returning courage opened up her eyes fully to welcome the straight plane of white that stretched out before them like a great desert in the heat of the sun. Row upon row of enormously tall red pine trees lined the plateau on both sides, the far reaching end rising into a mountain so high its top was submerged in a ring of dark, rapidly swirling clouds.

She drew in a sharp breath of the winter's cold air, about to advertise her relief with a content sigh when Vergil suddenly straightened up into a strung bow-string and his muscles tensed as if the worst was just about to come, not the opposite.

Her short chance to savour the blessings of a flat ground was snatched away when upon an invisible command, Mercy jerked forward with all she had and erupted into a speeding dart towards the nearby trees. The girl, being light and unprepared, scarcely managed to grab hold of the coat flailing in front of her and pull herself up to avoid rolling off the back of the horse into the steep cliff they had just climbed as the force of acceleration threw her harshly backwards.

"Hey, watch it! We left the smoke miles behind so what's the damn hurry?" Vesta huffed with the precious air she had just managed to suck in, her cheek embedded in his shoulder blades as she clung to him with all her might.

"I need to take care of some imminent business," Vergil declared off in an even voice loud enough so that she could hear him in the fast gallop and flying snow.

"You telling me you nearly dumped me off the mountain cause you need to take a piss?" she wanted to hit him but had nothing to do it with since her hands were busy holding on, so she just used her mouth. "Couldn't you do it right here?" she called out, taking care to sound resentful.

"There is no cover here," Vergil's voice distanced as his eyes swirled to the side, narrowing dangerously when two large shadows joined the speeding horse and glided alongside effortlessly like silent ghosts, killing the shimmer of the sun on the white blanket of snow.

"Oh so you, being a guy, have to do it in the cover of the bushes while I had to make do with the open?" Vesta deliberated out loud through her teeth, as a matter of principle, her eyes closing as the sleety spray of snow just hit her face.

"It's a rather _large_ business," Vergil uttered grimly and before Vesta knew it, he had her hands unclasped from his waist and for some unknown time she felt weightless. Her back hit the cold white cushion and she rolled several times before coming to a halt on her bottom, the heels of her boots landing with a soft crunch on the icy crust in front of her.

"Hey, what the hell! You still don't have to dump _me_ to have a crap!" she shouted at the blue-white silhouette growing in distance, her fists pounding into the crisp, ice laced snow.

Riled up as she felt the cold creeping up her painful bum through her trousers Vesta squinted and lifted her arm slowly up to shield her eyes from the strong sun that reflected brightly off the vast plane of silver. A sharp flash not too far from her did a good job at singing her pupils and she absently crawled forward on her knees to its source. Reaching out blindly with her arm she found something metal thrown into the snow that was trampled by hooves.

Suddenly the air darkened, enabling her to see clearly what the object was and her mouth fell ajar. Thinking of the clouds that must have come very quickly as the sky was so blue before, she looked up almost absently. Her wide brown eyes ended up staring at the heaving heavens, a reflection of churning mass of black tattered shadows dancing in their pupils.

Vesta tore away her eyes from the visage that sent unpleasant chills down her spine and looked to the forest where Vergil had vanished. She knew what she was holding was the same steel the stranger had used to cut open her back, and realised that Vergil had dropped it for her, as a means of defence.

Her stomach tightened with the feel of something very bad that emanated from the clouded air. She felt it many times before, always when the real monsters came, she was sure of it now.

"Holy shit, a big, a very big pile of crap!" her lips barely moved, whispering in awe. _And he drew them away from me…_

A terrifying shrill pierced through the snow covered plane and Vesta watched in horror as the swirling clouds solidified into what appeared like a dozen huge, ominous humanoid shapes that sped up along the horse made tracks, their darkness spun talons trailing behind their bodies swathed in tatters of black garbs. They looked even meaner and more terrifying then the monsters she had seen so far, all armed unlike Vergil who had left her his only weapon.

Clutching the nine inch knife painfully in her shaking hand, she looked to the tall, timeless woods and whispered into the once again shimmering white emptiness, "Now I pray that you _do_ have some powers…"

* * *

_Darn, Vergil just can't stay out of trouble, huh? How will he get out of this one! :-o_

_Well heeh, I always wanted to learn how to throw knives properly so here is how to review: ;-)_

_1) Imagine the review button looks like Vergil…so go on, and give him a loving push! mmmm_

_2) Gather your fine assortment of knives of varying sharpness, in fact the blunt ones will be the best really… (For size, avoid katanas and swords as they are rather destructive ;-))_

_3) Now start throwing, try to hit the keyboard, nooo, not the cat! Ok, another try… *closes eyes in horror, not to see the gaping holes in the floor*_

_Well really, I accept no claims for damaged technology, nor for perforated limbs or anything else, all at your own risk! If you cannot throw, please review using another chapter's guide ;-) _

_And do review, you keep my sane insanity going, yours truly, Tora. Thanks mucho! And you each get a big virtual hug and a kiss! :D_


	18. The true faces of a devil

_This one is still to be betad, so please if you can spot any mistakes, do let me know and I will correct them, tx!_

**The true faces of a devil**

The sound of heavy hooves trotting on thinly iced snow abruptly ceased and a pair of eyes that matched the frozen surroundings slowly rolled to the side. Vergil sat comfortably on top of the warm, pure-white hide in silence, unperturbed by the sudden rush of snow that tumbled down a giant tree and landed on the ground with a loud rumble.

The eerie stillness that followed foretold the sinister presence reeling in the nearby air behind him. Habitually running his fingers through the slicked back strands of his white hair, Vergil took in a deep breath. The pungent stench of hell assaulted his nose, forcing him to clench up his jaw to guard himself against its penetrating, corruptive disease. Soon, very soon he would be at full power and not suffer the indignity of having to defend himself like a lame, feckless dog…

He closed his eyes briefly to do a quick double-take of his mental shields and then slid off the calmly standing horse. Guiding his tall boots easily through the few inches of snow, Vergil approached a crooked tree and unhurriedly, gingerly pulled down the zipper of his leather trousers. _The fuckers can wait_…

The air thickened and whirred behind him, long shadows stretching over the wintery woodland, soaking all in unnatural darkness. Taking no notice of the savage, violent feel engulfing the place, Vergil made his indolence count, prolonging his pleasure in emptying his bladder slowly.

He cocked up half a smile as the thought of his brother crossed his mind. Vergil had taught Dante the art of stealing the upper hand from an enemy in greatly disadvantaged situations, just like the one he was in right now. Only Dante, to Vergil's fully disclosed annoyance, always managed to add his own modifications. Like whistling for example, out of tune; completely irritable…and completely ingenious. How he now wished he hadn't been so wrong by purposely pushing Dante away, that he could fight proudly alongside his capable, inventive brother, and accept his much needed help…

"How foolish of you to venture out _unarmed_! Your highly desired death will bring me the greatest glory!"

Vergil deemed it unworthy of a respect to even half raise his eyes to the tenebrous, impossibly deep voice that sounded arrogant and boastful yet lacked all authority and meaning, at least in Vergil's opinion. After taking his time to let the last drops fall to the stained whiteness below, Vergil zipped himself up with overt nonchalance and swept some specs of snow and dirt that had fallen down, off his shoulders.

"All you succeeded in…," he began in a bored, deep voice, "...is giving me three pieces of invaluable information," he finally looked up at his adversary, using series of inconspicuous glances to assess his standing. It didn't look good. Eleven others floated by, a few feet of the ground, some sort of deeply serrated, curved swords he hadn't seen before protruding from their long, shapeless robes. Although their general shape resembled that of an eight foot tall human, no bodies or any feet could be seen, only a semblance of heads covered with wide-brimmed slouch hats. . Their sense of fashion was the scariest part, he snorted inwardly.

"I have given you nothing, Sparda! Explain yourself," the demon croaked in a disturbingly unstable tone, signalling his highly ignitable agitation. Very lucent, intensely yellow eyes aside a long curved-down red beak for a nose attempted to break through the thick ice of Vergil's blues that in turn plunged the creature into an increasingly difficult to control, mounting fury upon Vergil's steadfast deflection.

Maintaining cold dispassion, Vergil's orbs narrowed ever so slightly, the increased pressure of his gaze pushing the gleaming yellows into retreating stagnation. Vergil could still never fully comprehend how his eyes could sometimes become such an effective weapon, just as his tongue...

"Then I suggest you listen carefully as I do not take kindly to having to explain myself," Vergil gritted his teeth for effect, even though he didn't really have to think really hard about it.

The demon floated still, warily waiting for Vergil to continue as his shroud weaved off nebulous blackness warped around him with every breath as if it was alive.

"Now, I know that someone of a high stature desires my death as you would not boast about it so openly otherwise. Possibly the ruler himself, whatever wishful poser it is these days," Vergil paused as he spat out to add insult, studying the devil's changing expression. Indeed, he was right as he saw a hint of surprise mingled with ready to burst rage at Vergil's offense of the demon's 'mighty' master.

Vergil continued in a steady, even deeper, intimidating voice, "I also know that you are a great coward, even _contemplating_ to attack an unarmed man…"

He was spreading his false might thick and fast, now he could only live in hope that it had worked. He knew this kind very well, cowardly and impulsive, they could take him down in no time if they caught on the impression he was not all that powerful as they were warming up to think. Otherwise they would have already attacked, all at once, not waited with weary apprehensiveness for him to finish insulting them …

"And lastly, I know that you are a foolish buffoon if you think I am unarmed. In fact I count three …," Vergil raised his arms into an open gesture, giving each of his arms a studied onceover, "…two right here," he stretched out his un-gloved fingers and then curved them inward forcibly, cracking his knuckles one by one.

"Where is the third…," misgivings in his voice, the floating demon somewhat warily and spontaneously dipped his sight downwards, towards Vergil's midsection.

"You are holding it," Vergil growled out in his deepest baritone to match the demon's as his eyes shrunk to narrow slits, and before the creature even caught on the meaning, he twisted up high into the air and kicked the hook-like weapon out of the demon's black-gloved hands.

Landing graciously on his feet, Vergil caught the hook-like sword behind his back and twirling round swiped it at the swirling robe in front of him, severing a few vapours of blackness from the fleeting leader. He then hurled the weapon that felt alien and uneasy in his hands at the nearest foe, cleanly severing the head from its warping body. It fell to the ground with a sharp hiss, the nebulous robe dissolving to leave a clean white skeleton behind. A short stir of hums resounded through the forest and soon died down as they all shot their eyes from Vergil to their dead comrade and then back to Vergil.

"Anyone else wants a piece of me while I am _unarmed_?" Vergil taunted in a feigned pissed off tone, opening his arms welcomingly, mentally labelling them as unsightly brainless birdmen with less than useless weapons. He simply could not even conceive how they could used those things apart from throwing them as never returning boomerangs or convincing ladies, forcefully, to come closer by hooking them up…

"Don't just hover there, kill him!" the apparent leader yelled at his frozen gang, signalling for them to attack yet he seemed unwilling to do so himself.

Vergil mentally congratulated himself on his trademark illusionist tactics as the demon squad's inborn ferociousness and lust for blood had been muddied to a mere sense of duty and fear from punishment should they fail to obey their orders. His chances of survival had increased, although only marginally, if only he could fight long enough and eliminate them one by one, purely relying on his exceptional martial arts skills, inhibited by nearly human speed and perception.

At least the girl was at a safe distance to pose a risk of distracting him, yet close enough should he find himself in the urgent need of 'calming down'. However, should they inflict a wound bad enough for him to bleed too visibly, the illusion of power would collapse like a house of cards in a stormy weather, and he would be as good as dead, very fast. Still it was nothing he couldn't handle…

Cautiously, the entire rank of the shadow birdmen from hell glided menacingly through the air and encircled him. Not being able to retain much knowledge of his years in hell and thus not aware of what to expect from these foes, Vergil remained still as a statue and braced himself for an attack, whatever may come.

Using the moment of standstill, his eyes studied their visage and movement in detail, trying to assess their strengths and weaknesses. To his annoyance, and bitter disappointment, their capabilities were neigh on impossible to predict. Vergil quietly clenched his jaw, residing to the reality that he would have to call upon his instincts and self-drilled survival skills to see this one through.

Steadying his heart to a minimum beat, all the sounds and movements became part of him as he closed his eyes. A speck of frozen snow fell of a tree five feet away and from the stillness of the demon commando he knew they didn't notice. Pleased that his sharply trained senses didn't suffer from his mental degradation, Vergil afforded himself to display a devious smirk on his face.

Provoked by what they have mistaken for a display of mockery, the demons began to pulsate and swell with darkness emanating from within their cores, releasing sharp black tendrils from their shrouded bodies while their hideous weapons rose high to the air. Feeling the stench of the hellish dimension flood the atmosphere in all its suffocating viciousness, Vergil surmised the attack was imminent and began to slowly backtrack towards one of them, gaining more distance from the remaining eleven, his feet rolling two balls of snow as he dragged his boots backwards.

The tension reaching boiling point, just as the undoubtedly death bringing demonic shards stretched out and shot towards him from all sides, Vergil dove down and opening his eyes he scooped up the premade snowballs. Leaping high up just before facing the nearest hell soldier's impalement, he hurled the icy cannonballs at two enormous trees packed with a nice load of heavy snow while twisting in the air to land a safe distance away.

A series of heavy thuds accompanied by screeching branches and twisting wood rumbled through the forest and soon nothing but a spray of white mist remained dispersed in the air. Like an instant freshener, Vergil noted mentally that snow was great in covering up the potent odour hell seemed so insistent on having its servants wear like cheap cologne. Pinching his nose to fend off the remaining waft, Vergil turned placidly to the familiar voice that emerged from the nearby bushes.

"Whoa, and there I was, thinking you were dying and you just flatten them all with a single snowball? I would have never thought of that, that's really neat!" Vesta stepped out of the thickets, brushing the moss and twigs out of her hair enthusiastically, wearing a grin matching her vigour.

"Two actually," Vergil corrected her glumly. "And I dropped you off for a reason, this is not your fight," he pointed out matter-of-factly, sending his eyes to glance towards the stirring mounds of snow below the now stripped bare trees.

"Hey, I just thought you might need this since you so carelessly _dropped it_, together with _my ass_," she said emphatically with a deprecating twist, holding out her hand with the long mean knife resting in her palm, smiling an overly bright smile, "it still hurts."

Qualms of conscience never hitting home, Vergil simply shrugged. "Keep it. Unlike you, I don't need it," he scoffed dismissively, not even stopping the tugging that threatened to materialize into a full blown, Dante style smirk on his face. For some reason he found himself abnormally at ease even in the face of imminent and unquestionably painful death, only hours short of coming to his full power which would have enabled him to crush them all to dust with only a few well placed moves.

"I don't want it," Vesta drawled concisely, then pouted, "it's too painful…"

"It's too painful," Vergil repeated mockingly, "oh, I doubt that. Have you ever had a sword forged in hell protruding from your innards, then having the pleasure of pulling its dark-magic infused blade out all the way, slowly, feeling it pull at your already shredded organs and scrape over your broken bones?"

She gaped for a while, thinking it over long and hard. "Don't think so…"

"Then you cannot possibly even fathom the definition of painful. Should you wish to retain that blissful fact I would strongly advise you to stay the hell out of the way," Vergil's cocky smirk gained a shade of evilness as he reached down and punched the nearest emerging cloud of darkness back under the pile of snow, his intent blues never leaving her unperturbed brown ones to send the right message. An enormous rush of thrill swiped across his nerves and he suddenly felt more alive than ever before. Did he feel the need to…show off?

"As I recall, you advised me to remain close and I don't really fancy having pyro the crazy-guy hot on my ass. I'd rather take my chances with something…I could have a stab at," she thrust her hand out in accordance with her words, attempting to throw the knife into the air and catch it again after it span several times, only the catching part backfired and the blade whooshed right past Vergil's face and headed for his foot.

"Oops, sorry," her attempted I-can-do-better-next-time face didn't convince Vergil at all as he squatted down to pull the sharp nine inch blade from the side of his boot that he had moved just in time. He would have felt irritation and contempt for such display of incompetence that would have hindered his careful calculations to aid quick results during a battle, yet they never surfaced.

"Go sit! Over there! Now!" he ordered her harshly, registering her smiling obedience with growing interest. Perhaps she, and with some lingering reluctance on his part…his little brother, were capable of staying out of harm's way on their own, leaving him to take life with a little less tension and a bit more relish. Besides, they were not after her, their orders as it seemed were strictly concentrated on him, and him alone.

Feeling high for some strange reason, for the first time he had been inundated with all the signs of an appetite for a company of another: The extra unleashed thrill, the pleasure of which pulled up the corners of his normally tightly drawn lips; the need to protect someone openly in a welcome expectation of their acknowledgement; the need to fight in a way that yielded the most awe-striking results rather than expedience, the inclination to foolishness…how he could have enjoyed the battles alongside Dante… Wasn't it an irony at its purest when he actually felt alone for the first time in the absence of his brother when he had pushed him away purposefully most of his life?

A brief shadow had obscured the flawless mirror of the blade, bringing goose bumps to his skin. Vergil snapped his mind back to fight mode, only this time, Dante's style. _The show has just begun, so let's play…your way for once, brother…_

Straightening as he turned, Vergil brought his knee up baseball-style, propelled the knife across the snowdrift in a perfectly straight line and watched it jam into the eye of the demon that was flying headlong towards him, bits of snow falling of its tendrils that warped to squid-like tentacles ready to ensnare and tear, black void for mouth stretching out to expose a mesh of wickedly sharp, intertwined teeth.

"Catch!" the half-devil in blue overcoat made a dramatic gesture of victory.

Upon impact the demon's already burning yellow eyes seemed to have burst aflame, and soon its entire body erupted into a horrid ball of molten flames that consumed its hellish darkness as if it was dipped in sun itself. A discordant shrill of the dying demon tore through the heat wave that melted a small crater in the snow underneath its prematurely terminated flight path.

"Woot! Nail their rotten asses!" Vesta cheered from her nearby viewing position excitedly with her hands in the air, finally happy to witness some signs of demonic power from Vergil, thinking that this would all be a piece of cake after all. So did all devils just use flames? But then, where were the pitchforks?

_Wretched damnation, I should have kept that darn blade_, Vergil cursed mentally, giving Vesta a fake cocky bow in lieu, having to duck down as the remaining swarm of shadows swooped down on him from all directions. That blade was saturated up to its hilt with an immensely strong devil's power and he could have killed them all with it in minutes. Now it lay somewhere, buried in the piles of snow and his chances of finding it before getting shredded to grisly shards of flesh or having the life sucked out of him, whatever those abhorrent tendrils of theirs could actually do, were thinner than slim.

Might at least die in style, Vergil surmised, as he jumped high up to scrunch a demon's neck with an expertly delivered dropkick. The awful sound of snapping bones played in his ears as he span elegantly in the air, bringing his boot brutally down on the falling monster's back, causing it to slam hard into the ground below that was still hissing from the earlier inferno. Landing softly in the snow, Vergil strode resolutely to execute the final blow, only the deformed mass re-swirled back to its original shape and took off speedily to higher heavens.

Silently cursing out his frustration, he dove to the side to evade an attack of three very fast flying shadows, landing in the hard snow with a sharp pain striking out in his arm. Ignoring the small flow of blood, Vergil jumped back to his feet, his eyes trailing all their movements while rashly scouring the grounds for any signs of the powerful dagger.

A brush of wind on his face alerted him to another attack, the razor edge of a weapon skiving the skin a thumb away from his eye as he bent backwards, dropping to the ground, instantly flipping back up to his feet, ready to retaliate and on full alert. Only they all took back up, well away from his range of destruction. Agitated by their cowardly evasive tactics, Vergil balled his hands into tight fists, silently releasing his steam and reassessing his options. This was taking too long, the blood would soon seep through his coat and they would realize he wasn't healing. He had to take them down to his level and act fast.

_You want to play cat and mouse? Time for the cat to start killing_, Vergil narrowed his eyes dangerously and bending his knees, propelled himself impossibly high up, like a leaping cat, to block one trailing demon's path. Twisting upside down he hooked his legs round the surprised birdman's neck and swung it brutally downwards, causing its body to crash into the exposed earth. Its bones shuddered from the hard landing, the demon lay stunned just long enough for Vergil to kick its weapon out of its distressingly whirling core right into his hand.

"You call this a challenge? All you do so far is keep me warm," Vergil scoffed haughtily, ignoring the blood sticking to his coat and the burning sweat that travelled uncomfortably down his neck and along his spine.

Standing tall above the fast recuperating demon, Vergil tossed the curved sword high above him, and proceeded to take off his soiled trench, exposing one bare shoulder at a time as he once saw Dante do, before discarding it uncaringly onto the crimson splattered snow. The weapon then dropped back into his hand and he twirled it skilfully in one fluid movement, bringing the blade up for the strike. Stopping in this pose, Vergil directed his glare towards the girl as if waiting for her acclaim.

Warm shiver ran through her as she caught on, and standing up solemnly, she extended her arm. Vesta felt besides herself, never before engaged in any way in the 'war-play' of men, wanting to rush to the arena and show her appreciation personally, in her own shy-free way. Instead, playing her part she turned her wrist and pointed her thumb downwards, face set in a proud expression of endorsement.

A thin nod and the blade descended with cruel precision to cut into the demon's cloudy heart. Black tendrils shot up in response, swiping at the cause of their doom in dying frenzy, latching onto every available surface they could possibly find. Evading most of the disgusting, flailing suckers, Vergil felt a few to wind around his injured and less flexible bare arm, and instantly began to stumble as his life energy was drained out of him. Just not what he needed them to be capable of, he thought gloomily as his heart rate sped up and threatened to send him tumbling to the ground.

His vision dropping, he could just about see the sword begin to push out from the demon's wildly drumming organ, its maddened yellow eyes opening as it drunk Vergil's life to feed its own. It would be only matter of seconds before hell found its way to him, breaking easily through the weakening, failing barriers erected so painstakingly around his mind. Only he wasn't going to give in that easily this time…

Grinding his teeth hard, Vergil let out a frustrated yell before slamming his elbow mightily into the hilt of the serrated sword, plunging it back in. Pain shot through his arm at the impact as the edge cleaved right through the ephemeral body of the demon, severing it in half. The tendrils dropped off, sliding of his bleeding arm to devolve lifelessly onto the cold ground.

Feeling exceedingly groggy, Vergil threw his head up, and slicking his hair back looked to the sky, nearly falling down as his foot got stuck in a deeper patch of snow. Waving his hands queasily at the swarming circle of long, sinister shadows, he yelled at them angrily.

"You wanna play? Well then, come the fuck down here unless you see any frigging wings growing outta my back, you dimwits?"

Half consciously standing up, Vergil pondered how obedient those devil's advocates were, all coming to him at once like enraged rabid dogs. Or was it birds? At long last! Only perhaps he should have been more prudent in his hastiness to infuriate such savage beasties while in a less then agreeable state for a fair fight! Strange how this potentially fatal misjudgement made him hiccup inwardly, or was it called a compulsion to sardonic laughter?

Shrugging it off nonchalantly, he held up his palm to the overwhelming wave of hell's assassins that swept down towards him from the heavens, clouding the air into an un-breathable, brimstone saturated blackened fog of enraged demonic fumes and an abhorrent mass of life sucking tentacles.

"Just, just give me a sec here," Vergil grumbled out tiredly in a gruff voice and pivoted on one foot, swaying, paying no further attention to the bewildered hell's henchmen who came to a stop mid-air, surprisingly, with their infernal feelers hovering an inch from devouring his body. Their auras emitted curiosity mingled with confused incomprehension as he sauntered unevenly towards the now less assuredly gleaming girl.

"What are you doing? They are still out there," Vesta hissed quietly through her teeth as he grabbed her shoulders and clearly agitated, backed her up against a nearby pine tree.

"Exactly," Vergil growled irritably with a strange glint in his moonstone eyes, pushing her harder into the delicate cushion of moss growing so mercilessly on the bark of the red giant. "Too slow to kill," he tilted his head downwards, his softer voice wafting over the nape of her neck like the contact of a silken feather.

"Then why aren't you there, _killing_," the growing nervousness in her tone traversed through her body, transforming into surges of pleasurable tremors mingled with trepidation. Wanting badly for him to do what she thought, and hoped, he was so incredibly about to do yet unsure about his peculiar timing, Vesta voiced one more push before giving into the surge of excitement that made her lose any last strands of common sense. "Use the fire thing, that worked perfectly fine and pretty quick," she lifted her face to his, breathing her hottened sweet scent into the cold marble of his cheek.

"If you want to see some fire, stop the chit-chat," Vergil put an end to her lingering doubts as he crushed his muscle-solid body into her, his mouth stealing her parted lips with insanity driven hunger.

Delving deep with peremptory dominance, striking straight into the core of her swelling arousal, Vergil came to possessing her completely, enveloping her petite frame protectively with his strong arms while claiming all of her for himself, drowning in the awakening desire. His emotions coming and going in waves like crushing surf, the weakened body and mind unable to hold the seal on the rampant feelings that began to take turns in tormenting his proud soul, he was finding an escape in focusing on the strongest feeling of them all; the arousal, aggravated to near madness by his own foolish boldness, the complete absurdity of his act and the fact that he lost his need to care about it.

The tapestries of the snow covered woodland dissipating from his awareness, he became fully engrossed in the wild scent of her that drove his disarrayed senses even crazier, and Vergil quickly lost all perception of reality, diving deep into the oblivion of his devil-infused, hell-induced passion.

Vesta gasped at his sudden and overwhelming ardour, drowning in his worked up strong scent mixed with fresh sweat that instantly drove her wild. Her trembling body melted into his shockingly hard closeness, nerve endings flaring up with immense heat that effused into a raging inferno that washed over her pulsing belly. She was swept away and aroused like never before, her heart beating so fast she thought she would faint at any moment.

Any inexperience he had shown the night before diffused into a haze of erotic intoxication and she wondered how could it be that no one ever made her feel so much like a strong woman and so helpless at the same time before. "You _are_ the devil," she breathed out half consciously as his hot tongue briefly left hers to take a much needed breath of colder air.

"Then, the _hell_ with it," forgetting entirely where he was, Vergil jammed his knee between her warmth slickened thighs, increasing the pressure on her lips with bruising harshness while running the palm of his hand firmly down the generous and heaving curve of her chest.

He could feel her speeding heart and the unbearable build-up of sexual desire within her, and it fed his fervour and heady ferocity even more. Grinding hard into her with an accelerating rhythm, his skin overwhelmed by shivers that erupted into giant goose bumps, Vergil's hand moved on its own accord to the belt of her trousers.

"Sparda!"

A bright, powerful influx of raw energy rose up within him, hardening every single nerve unbearably in his instrument of passion, then overflowing and spilling out to flood the rest of his body. Blind to all the unimportant, insignificant nuisances of the external world, Vergil focused purely on releasing her irresistible waist from her seemingly armoured attire, his mission narrowed down to a single goal. Conquer and plunder what he had denied himself his entire life because of the very same scum that was trying to interrupt him and kill him at that very moment.

"What dark magic is this! We were not informed that you possessed the ability to multiply at will!" a discerned, agitated voice rumbled somewhere at the back of his conscience, darkness seeping into the briefly opening corners of his eyes.

Vergil pulled away from Vesta's opulent, sweetly moistened lips. "Just give me a goddamn minute, and perhaps I will multiply!" he barked out over his shoulder, then turned her roughly around, slamming his burning groin into the swell of her bum, pulling the now disarmed trousers down to her tender, shaking, sweat glistening thighs.

"What treachery is this! Unprecedented! Prepare to die! " the enraged tone of the head demon cut through the thickening air, hitting deaf ears as Vergil proceeded to unfasten his own belt, unstoppable, unyielding, uncaring…

"Go complain to someone who gives a flying toss," Vergil mumbled to himself as he dipped his hand into the silken thickness of her hair, yanking her head backwards as his gorged, blood fired pride plunged smoothly in its fullness into her desire swollen, aching fortress. A woman's wild groan of pleasure preceded the roar worthy of a mighty cry of war that made its way out of his expanding, power filled lungs, sweeping predatorily over the enraged hum of whispers.

"Get it on, bro, you old dog! I always knew you were deprived, but I never in my wildest dreams imagined you would be the one to fuck in the face of all hell! That is, literally," a muffled clap finished the excitedly spoken words.

"Brother…," from his sub-consciousness, Vergil's lips twitched with insurmountable pleasure as the familiar boisterous voice grazed his ears. Fuelled by a relieving excitement mingled with a rush of sibling rivalry that has sparked a brand new feeling of dominant arrogance within him, Vergil threw his head back with a wanton grunt, reaffirming his patronage over the woman he had seen his twin bond with on more than one occasion. "Nice of you to come…"

"Seems like I am not the only one," Dante cracked a wide grin, pulling out his guns to shoot off a load of his magazine into a tail of a shadow that zoomed past him with an incredible speed.

Eyes re-swirling to clarity as he was torn from the blissful state of utter relaxation, Vergil cast a glance downwards, suddenly aware of the world again, and the excessive wetness that tickled his sensitive skin. "Hmpf. So it seems. My sincerest apologies, it appears that I need to work on a very different kind of control," he pulled out of Vesta and pouting, zipped up his trousers unhurriedly, unfazed by the mess he had caused.

"No regrets," Vesta turned back her flushed face, smiling at him lovingly. "Just practice with me," she graced him with an adorable, suggestive wink that was answered by an awkwardly raised eyebrow and a subconscious swipe at the nose.

"Who else," Vergil said with a bewildered matter of course, missing her flabbergasted expression as he span to face Dante. A different, not so pleasant kind of feeling jumped forefront, casting a deep shadow over the now forgotten outburst of passion. Fastening his belt nervously, Vergil took a few steps towards his brother but remained silent, standing unsettled in the trampled snow. Cold wind began to pick up, setting a different kind of goose bumps on his bare arms and ruffling his white hair.

"So you started the party without me?" Dante threw his hand to the side after unbearable few moments, still holding the smoking gun, gesturing to the three smudges of molten blackness spoiling the purity of the snow. He would ask and tease about the sex later, now he had something more pressing on his mind. "Not bad, _considering_…," he exhaled, holding back the surfacing dejection. His momentarily warmed up heart by the reunion, now cracking under the surmounting pressure of the tension, Dante finally stepped forth and hugged his brother, unable to hold back, "fuck bro, I thought you died again."

"You _know_…," Vergil said in an even voice, his arms dropped down alongside him shaking.

"I know everything," Dante let his eyes close, taking solace in the steady, healthy beat of Vergil's heart as he pressed his brother closer, expecting to be pushed away by him at any moment.

"Then…you will understand…," Vergil began in a hesitant voice, Dante bracing himself for the inevitable rejection that he had heard so many times before.

The howling wind battered them both, whirring into the strength of a mini tornado that grew in size, darkening, picking up dirt and larger debris from the ground.

"…if I ask you for help. I understand if you think less of me," Vergil finished off dejectedly, ashamed.

Momentarily paralyzed by the unexpected turnout, Dante nearly forgot to breathe. "You are the fucking dumbest dumbass I have ever known, you know," he exhaled suddenly and squeezed his twin tight as well as his eyes, a tear of relief spilling down his cheek, rolling onto Vergil's shoulder that slowly moved, embracing Dante in return.

"Thank you," Vergil's other arm rose up to accept his younger brother fully.

"Oh you guys…," a third pair of arms joined them, bathing in the warmness that felt burning in the blizzard growing all around them. Vesta looked up, startled by the two pairs of identically gorgeous eyes that were sternly penetrating her with fiery blue intensity. "Oops sorry, family business," she grimaced sheepishly and slid her arms off their shoulders. "I will just move over there, and stand on my own then," she began to walk away, humming quietly, kicking the snow playfully with her boots.

"Vergil, there is something you need to know," Dante pulled away from Vergil, holding his shoulders as he looked directly into his twin's eyes.

"Can't it wait Dante, we may have a problem," having to speak up in the increasing noise, Vergil swayed his head towards the churning black storm that begun to rip the smaller roots off the frozen ground.

"It's about her, about Vesta," Dante yelled, frustrated by that darn, untimely howl making it all more difficult.

It wasn't easy for him to say this, that she may have been sent to Vergil on purpose, seeing his older brother finally act more human by actually taking a rather intimate interest in a girl. He would have never believed to finally get the opportunity to contest against Vergil in this manner and his brotherly rivalry was driving him crazy. On the other hand, he was done with standing idly by and live for his own enjoyment; he would protect Vergil from now on, even at the risk of igniting his older brother's anger at him yet again, if it came to that.

"What? What did you say her name was?" Vergil's eyes darkened several shades as he slowly fixed his gaze back on Dante.

"Vesta," Dante repeated uncertainly, not liking the stark, dismal expression taking over Vergil's face. He didn't think Vergil would get angry _that_ quickly!

The twins turned to look at her, just as she happened to glance back, a shining wild smile playing across her beautiful face bathed in a shy ray of the sun as it fought its way through the darkening sky. Vesta waved her hand, her glittering eyes setting on Vergil, twinkling with warm gentleness mingled with a naughty challenge.

The snow lifted around them at that very moment, sending thousands of tiny sparkles to dance in the air as the whirring mass of infernal shadows rose upwards, forming an immense spinning circle round one giant tree. Together with a barrage of flying stones and branches, a brief flash of a razor sharp edge shot through their line of vision.

Then her smile fell, the bright light in her eyes fading into hollow emptiness.

Vesta lowered her head, bewildered expression flooding her face as the river of crimson burst out from her quieting chest, the dagger embedded deeply in her heart. Blood pushed from the corners of her mouth and she stumbled, folding lifelessly to the ground.

Vergil didn't move, didn't breathe.

_No, she couldn't be…._

Deathly numbness spread its dark veil over his trembling body as her name rang through his refusing mind, over and over again.

_I have not sensed it…I have not...until now._

Suffocating, painful tightness gripped his innards as he stared rigidly, somewhere at the now blank spot where her lively, expressive eyes were only moments ago.

_I have slept…_

_I have fallen for…_

…_the daughter of Mundus._

* * *

_Oh my, Vergil doesn't seem to know whether he is coming or going...ehm...have mercy on his soul! How is he going to cope with Dante and his own realisation about Vesta, hm? Well I hope you understand his battles, the mental ones I mean, it is not easy to write, I tell you! That is why I appreciate every single encouragement from you very much! And separately, thank you Sinny for one such great encouragement, as I cannot reply privately I just say here quickly how much your comments mean to me! Please keep reading... :D_

_Right, now, the review guide. Here is something different, as I believe a lot of you have your exams to do and don't have much time, so I will make it your assignment and a bit of a challenge! Muhaha_

_1) Press the review button and the challenge shall begin... *evil grin*_

_2) Now you have 5 seconds to accept the mission and start writing - a nice comment that is - or the screen will go blue and self-destruct! Muhahahahaaaaa Well, yeah, seriously! _

_3) Now should you accept the mission and your screen is therefore still intact, you have 5 minutes to complete the review ;D If not, you have failed miserably, and the whole computer will get squashed by an ugly smelly giant foot! Well...not really but it is nice to be mad and dream, right? _

_Yours, Tora. _


	19. Insanity drives evil away

**Insanity drives evil away**

The pain, it wasn't like anything she had experienced before. Not that she had been stabbed in the heart in the past, but she was all too familiar with the works of a sharp knife on her body. And this felt nothing like it, in fact it hurt everywhere apart from the place where she had been cut. It was like every single part of her skin was being sliced off, inch by inch, the raw wounds dipped in acid, set on fire, and then pulled out one tendon and muscle at a time before being glued back in again, in quite a different order and at the wrong places.

Her lungs should have been screaming out bloody air but the only sound she could hear was the accelerating beat of her heart. How strange, shouldn't her beating organ be slowing down, dying instead? Her fingers twitched, nails digging deep into the cold snow. It was so cold on the outside but her insides were igniting with something too hot, like fresh magma spewing straight out of a volcano, slowly rolling over her body, torturously filling every little crevice, pushing its molten destruction through her screaming veins.

Was the pyro guy back to finish her off? Then where was Vergil? Why wasn't he close? Couldn't he make the heat go away just like before? _Did you leave me to the pain just like the others?_

Her chest shrunk in on itself and the walls of her consciousness began to cave in, was she finally going to pass out? But she was still aware and the agony turned even worse, it made her scrape her nails along the freezing ground, her chest shooting up in giant spasms. Was this what Vergil had meant? The pain so bad she couldn't fathom its existence? She would have laughed but instead a bloodcurdling scream stole her breath. So finally…she actually screamed. But it didn't sound like her, it was so horrible, like a wild, horrible beast…

Her heart was racing faster and faster, did the knife miss after all? Or was she already dead, having a reaction to hell? Yes, it must have been hell, since it turned so hot. She could feel her blood boil, carrying something strange through her swollen veins, something bad, something evil. She could feel it, gripping her, filling her, and she could only lay there and let it take its course.

It turned so quiet, the noise have died down with her screams, no more pounding in her head, no more howling, only some distant whispers…was it the devils deciding her fate in the realm of the damned?

"She is dying!" a distraught voice called out, a pang of guilt and sadness loitering on its edges.

"No. She isn't. Quite the opposite…," the calmer voice said quietly, smoothing over her like a fresh breeze in the overwhelming heat. Yet deep inside, she could sense it torn, distracted and struggling…

_They aren't devils… _Vesta's mind pondered, sharpening, gaining in focus. The pain…it was peeling off, falling off like a dead, dried skin.

"Vergil. She won't survive it. You have to let go man," Dante placed his hand firmly on his brother's bare shoulder and squeezed. "She, she might have been sent to you…"

_Vergil? He is here?_ A different kind of warmth enveloped her and she was lifted off the cold ground by a pair of strong arms, they were shaking. The terrible howling and blizzard, it started again, coming to focus, making something silk-like blow in her face.

"Do you remember Dante. Do you remember, when you had awakened, when I…," hoisting her up in his arms, Vergil's expression was wry with a numb pain and self-contempt that lay embedded deep in his soul. That mistake had been well etched in his painful memory and he would not make another like it, not again. No one belonged in hell, no one in whose veins ran human blood, no matter what heritage they have been blessed or cursed with. She didn't need to know and he would make sure of that…

Biting into his lower lip to fend off the pain in his chest, Vergil twisted his wrist as he held the girl firmly, taking hold of the small silver hilt and eased it out of her blood smothered breasts. "This blade…," he quietly observed the hellish work of art, "…is a powerful devil-arm," Vergil let his eyes linger on its intriguing, demonic design before he slid the magic infused blade behind his waist, holding Vesta with his knee as he did so, then looked sternly at his brother's profile.

"You, what are you saying," Dante's eyes swivelled from the cloud of blackness that began to encircle another sky-reaching tree ,to intercept the blue ice of his brother's, uncertainty and well buried recollection swimming in his tone. He could well remember that day, in every vivid detail, when he fought against the flow of evil in his veins, and lost. Lost against the pain and disgust that he tried so hard to lock away within his inner self ever since; the disgust against his devil side that his brother had induced in him so violently. Still of course, on the other hand, he didn't forget to enjoy its perks...

Dante started to feel it, the demoniac essence flowing ever so slightly from her limp body. Just like he had felt his own blood transform, and turn him into an even more ruthless and vicious killer, sending his senses on a wild ride every time hell's scent was near. He had to live with it and learn to suppress the calls of evil ever since. "So, she is a devil…," Dante whispered dispiritedly, "would have come out sooner or later…"

Vergil wasn't quite sure whether the last comment was aimed at what he had done to Dante or whether his brother was referring to Vesta's fate. Did he still blame him? Did Dante still hold hate for what he had done?

"Dante," the older twin breathed out, his eyes closing to fend off the rising discomfiture and self-loathing. "I never meant to pull you down, I never meant to judge you the way I did. I thought…, my blind delusion was that I was protecting you," his blue gaze found its slightly brighter gleaming mirror image to seek forgiveness, in hope of finding solace in the painful redemption. He would not endanger anyone with his own naïve and selfish beliefs…as they no longer existed thanks to his demise. Nor he would condemn someone for who they were…be it his twin brother with a screw loose...or two, or the daughter of his worst nemesis…

Dante stared at him as the ground began to shake, the snow and dirt vibrating and traversing across the shadowed surface as if caught in a powerful earthquake.

"You always protected me Vergil. I only wanted to show you that…that you didn't have to anymore," his voice was losing its coherency as he stood unmoving, dumbfound and uncertain just like when Vergil tried to explain to him the workings of proper etiquette. It never hit its target.

Dante pulled out his gun and wiped his nose with the back of his hand nonchalantly. Vergil knew that gesture well. He knew that Dante would not let him down, he would fight off all hell and kill everything with overzealous enthusiasm, and even died himself, to save his older brother and everything that he had believed in.

"Then, let me show you in turn that I can place my trust in you. I will not be able to fight this battle on my own. Especially now…," Vergil dropped his sight to the half conscious girl, and mumbled, "…when they will want to kill her for what she is," he shot his arctic blues back to his brother, hardness of deadly determination setting in its depths.

"Verge…," slowly, very slowly Dante's grim, dismal face began to stretch into a scary, colossal grin. "Thought you'd never ask! You can always count on me, the devil damsel rescue-master extraordinaire," he jabbed his thumb flamboyantly at his chest that he didn't omit to puff up, and span Ivory on his thumb, nearly dropping it as he waggled about when an enormous tremor rippled through the soil, tearing a foot wide chasm right between his feet.

Vergil planned to turn away but instead balked, forced to roll his eyes royally. Perhaps he had been a tad bit hasty in the handover of his responsibilities, seeing as his younger brother couldn't even hold his balance while in full health and power, and free from the nagging influences of hell. How unsightly and undisciplined…

"Um, you might want to…," Vergil's eyes shot close as the oversized branch came crashing down, straight onto Dante who had been focused on projecting a sheepish face at his older brother.

Where had he seen that uncultured expression before, Vergil pondered while reopening his eyes to the sight of Dante prostrate by a giant piece of rotten wood. Oh yes, the girl stirring in his arms, she did tend to use an expression just like it… He better tuck her away, somewhere safe to keep her out of trouble, for now.

"All good!" the younger twin exclaimed jovially, shoving off the wood that he was hugging, then rolled off to avoid falling into the expanding chasm. "Sorry, I just…got a little distracted there," he jumped up and ruffled his hair to shake out some bark and moss, giving Vergil guilty look from under his lashes, expecting some sort of an usual scolding comment from his strictly disciplined brother.

"Yes, distractions…," Vergil's solid iceberg stare relented after a few seconds during which Dante remained rigid, expecting the worse. "…they only keep us human and free from full insanity," Vergil turned to leave but then stopped and glanced back at the stunned Dante. "Just don't get yourself killed while I hide _this one_," he cocked up an evil smirk before walking off into the woods with Vesta in his arms.

Calm as a windless night, Vergil made his way through a small part of the forest, feeling the thickening air all around him become saturated with the stench of hell, accompanied by the vapours of something even more sinister, the after-effects of powerful dark magic. Things were becoming too dangerous, an unnecessary risk that he needn't take…

Wading through heaps of wet snow and scattered cushions of pine needles, he moved aside a few prickly branches, a small trampled clearing where Mercy stood expectantly coming to his view. Vergil paused, his eyes travelling higher to take in the majestic mountain bathed in the shimmer of the slowly retreating sun. The shadows stretching all around him, leaving the ground to the mercy of the relentless frost biting into everything it touched with its icy teeth.

He could run, the mountain now only a half day's ride, the snow would be crisp and easier for Mercy to run on. He could get out now, outrun the assassins from hell, and reach his rightful power and heirloom, leave Dante and the girl behind, both of them capable of defence more so than he was right now. They could hold of the abhorrent army of abominations that was sent to tear _him_ apart…

Glancing back, his eyes were steady as the reflection of hell-spawn giants coming to life in the nebulous whirlwind of black magic centred in his pupils, the terrible sound of the monstrous beings popping into his ears.

Only she wouldn't know, wouldn't be able to control her demonic heritage so quickly and they would kill her mercilessly, just like they were planning to kill him…both for the same reason. Vergil's brows furrowed with a dark shadow of the bleak realisation his mind had been working on ever since he had learned her name. He only hoped that he was wrong, as it would bring an abrupt end to them all.

He should run and attempt to harness his devil-essence back from the demon world before it was too late. He and Dante, together in full power could prevail, but not if Vergil got killed too prematurely, leaving his little brother to mop up after him once more.

Then again, Vergil had never run from anything in his life apart from his own feelings and his family. And Dante would now have a true reason to look down upon him should he chose to take the easy way out and leave, yet again take things into his own hands…and fail. He would not make that same mistake either, the one his father did. No more running…

Vergil stepped resolutely into the opening and lifted Vesta onto the horse.

..besides he began to enjoy himself too much and passing up a chance to show Dante he could still pack a punch despite being nearly human stirred an unquenchable desire to trot out.

Vergil took the reins and loosely wrapped them round the awakening girl's wrists.

"When it turns ugly, you know what to do," he murmured lightly and slapped the mare's backside, giving the horse a secret sign that he had learnt from his mother, then observed the animal twitch its ears in acknowledgment. Satisfied, he span on his heel, about to plunge back into the darkening forest.

"Were you talking to me? What's happening to me?" a faint voice made him turn his head.

"No, and nothing," Vergil paused, giving her half lidded eyes his best stony look to hide his silent aggravation. He hated the unknown, and now he was reduced to guessing every single step he made, relying purely on feelings that he wasn't used to, that he didn't have the strength to control anymore. "Go back to sleep, trust her. She knows what to do," he said softly and with that he disappeared from her line of blurry vision.

Vergil waded through the thickets and frozen brush back towards the unholy commotion, his fast working mind reconfirming his previous assumptions. Leaving her unprotected like that may have been unwise but if he was right the demon lord's priorities lied with his survival, the death of the girl being a close second. Therefore the devil would no doubt keep an eye on Vergil during any potentially lethal battle, assuming that bastard was still sneaking around, leaving the daughter of Mundus relatively safe, for now. And he had to keep her alive...

One thing however he was still debating in his mind was whether to tell Dante about her origins now, or leave it till later as he simply could not predict his younger twin's reaction to such a touchy subject, on top of it all since technically Dante had killed her father. Dante could take it either way, and considering he had already found out about Vergil's less than favourable condition, too many emotional news at once could simply be too much for him to handle. Vergil knew he should place more trust in Dante's abilities and strength, but one thing his twin could never do very well was to hide his rampant feelings and emotions that also tended to get him in the most trouble. Better not tell him just yet…

His pace quickened as his feet began to pick up the tremors that shook the ground with increasing violence, causing the giant red pines towering around him to tilt from side to side like colossal pendulums. The fresh scent of pine needles was quickly replaced by the heavy stench of brimstone, the air heaving with dissipating and resurrected waves of black magic.

The swirling mass of the demonic birdmen hovered high above, creating a ring of whirring black cloud, about to summon the forces of darkness and transform another majestic ancient tree into a hideous, deadly monster.

Vergil knew Dante could take care of himself, after all he had learnt from his older brother, but this time, it looked like all hell broke loose, and he would never forgive himself if anything was to happen to Dante because of him. Vergil was the older and he was supposed to die first. And it would have been all his fault…for not seeing the obvious, for blindly believing he was choosing the right path by trying so solemnly to protect his younger brother when he should have trusted him instead.

Breath heavy to compensate for his speeding pulse, Vergil flew over the remaining few yards, expecting the worst, avoiding a shower of soil and snow as a gigantic wooden foot landed with a an earth shattering thud right next to him, nearly throwing him into the air.

"Holy bloody mutant shit! That's one motherfucking ugly tree, Verge! Do you see that?" the overly excited voice of his younger twin jumped at Vergil from behind another monstrous trunk that begun to move, "look, it's sprouting a set of hands and all!"

Seeming his fears were rather unsubstantiated, Vergil quickly regained his wits and responded half relieved, half unimpressed as he had to smooth out a whole half-forest of twigs and dirt from his slicked-back platinum hair, "thankfully, it's not sprouting a new set of mouth."

"What is it that you did again, to piss them off? Sing gospels in hell?" Dante shouted with a wide grin as he jumped over a swinging, crooked branch like it was a skip, and turning in the air, lopped it off with Rebellion, falling over from the heavy impact.

"I would dare to say I have no idea. Although one possibility pops to mind," Vergil cocked up a faint smirk at his brother's amusing antics that he would have found annoying only a few days ago. He calmly sidestepped several branches that tried their best to impale him by swinging ferociously from high above. Vergil caught himself in enjoyment; his itch to actually join in the fun was begging to be scratched, the absurdity of it all left to be pondered on.

"You care to share?" Dante flipped himself upwards in one fluid movement, instantly poised with his sword in both hands to parry off another attack.

Vergil gave the area coming to life with hell's creations a probing onceover and then looked back at Dante. "Yes, but not just with any ear. Let's bring this ridiculous bash to a close and talk a little more…privately," his eyes narrowed as he cracked his knuckles, poised with his fists to fight the sprouting army of gigantic, ghoulish and very mean looking tree-demons. Vergil looked so unconvincing, that Dante stopped in his tracks and struggling not to laugh, he had to ponder whether his twin had already completely lost his marbles.

"Here, or the oversized redwood will give you a good _hard_ spanking," together with a sly smile, Dante threw Ebony at his older brother whom caught the weapon automatically, his further narrowing eyes never leaving Dante.

"And with this, am I supposed to hope for lead poisoning, or strip it bare of its bark so that it dies of embarrassment?" Vergil's tone was playful as his silvery eyebrow shot up and he tossed the gun back to Dante.

"Well then, you should have brought something a lil bigger, or did you plan to tickle it to death with that fancy pocket knife of yours?" Dante threw his head towards the dagger that Vergil had fastened at his waist, and proudly held up his massive broadsword that still looked like a toothpick against the behemoths encircling them.

"No, I…wasn't planning…," Vergil said with an undertone of surprise that registered more so on Dante's face as he gaped at his brother as if he was sprouting a brand new head.

Dante was about to open his mouth and kindly point out that Vergil was obviously suffering from a mental displacement and should maybe leave the battle to him, when on instinct he was forced to raise Rebellion to avoid being mowed down by a wickedly animated hand.

Vergil watched with a hint of amusement creeping into his face as Dante was whisked to high heavens, hanging on by the hilt of his sword that became stuck in a thumb, amongst a myriad meter long pine needles that looked anything but harmless. The entire demonic tree swayed its entire body from side to side violently as if it wasn't made of wood but from rubber, its long arms and legs working in sync and with surprising ease and speed to bring its victim to a gruesome end.

Swinging madly like he was attached to bungee-ropes, Dante tried in vain to extract his weapon from the armoured hand, the tree trying in turn to shake him off as if he was a pesky insect. The giant soon became tired of its game and thought it more effective to instead crush the irritating red blob by bringing its hand to ground hard and fast.

"You mentioned something about hard spanking?" Vergil called out to the red missile coming quickly to earth while casually picking up his blue coat from where he had discarded it before, brushing off a few little pine needles from the shiny blue silk.

"Veeeerge…," a loud voice surpassed the noise of sickly creaking wood and howling wind as it neared the ground. At the last second Dante flipped over the massive wooden fingers, finally yanking out Rebellion, and somersaulting in the air landed on the mossy knuckles that began to fly back into the heavens. "How the heck do you kill an angry and ugly as hell tree?" Dante yelled from high up, jumping as the giant drew close its bushy brows, trying to snatch him again and crush him to a bloody pulp.

"I don't know," Vergil threw his hands into the air, regaining balance from the tremor that the thump had caused, then paused with his trench hanging on his little finger, his forefinger thoughtfully tapping on his lips, "hack it to confetti with your '_lil bigger_' instrument?" Vergil shrugged and pulled his mildly stained coat on.

"I tried that!" Dante yelled peevishly while yanking his heavy broadsword from another unsuccessful attempt at chopping up the impossible hardwood that punched back more like a slab of concrete. "Any other ideas? I mean…isn't there anything a bit faster!"

"How the hell would I know! The only time I fought a tree was when you once deemed it a good idea to ram one into our living room one late December," Vergil looked up to spy Dante running nearly sideways across the tree's arm, bark flying and raining down onto the ground, some landing in his white hair.

"It was a frigging Christmas tree!" Dante shouted before his boots connected with the main trunk with a shuddering force. The hard impact knocked him down onto his back and he quickly rolled off the bark-coated arm he landed on to dodge a barrage of flying needles. "This one…ouch…sure isn't very merry…," Dante mumbled as he was falling, hitting more branches on the way down.

"It was in the way! That's what it was!" Vergil stepped aside, letting Dante land next to him in a heap of limbs and red leather, Rebellion impaling the ground a few paces away.

"Aaahh, fuck," scrambling back to his legs painfully and groggily, Dante gave Vergil an eye-roll, "and you had to torch it? The poor thing puffed into oblivion in seconds!" he pointed out, cracking out the crinkles from his mangled spine. Then his eyes shot to Vergil, his brother already looking at him in equal realisation.

"Fire!" they both exclaimed in sync.

"You got fire?" Dante pulled out a wide grin as he kept peering at Vergil expectantly.

"You have to ask?" Vergil's smirk blossomed as he struck out a tiny flame at the tip of his thumb, then his evil smile rolled of his face lifelessly as the light perished in a passing puff of breeze.

"Come ooon, that's not a fire, that's barely a dinky spark!" Dante complained loudly, having to dodge an incoming cloud of razor-sharp needles, dispatched from two more giants closing in on them from two other sides.

"Well then, you can come up with a better plan!" Vergil snapped half miffed, half in pain as he jacked out a pine needle as long as a sword from his right arm, coming to a sudden conclusion that fun would indeed be a lot more fun if he had his powers. How could he have thought he could take on the worst of hell's creativities cooked up by the darkest magic meant to destroy even the most powerful of demons while being nearly human? He couldn't even complain that Dante didn't manage to do much better.

Shaking his head, Dante walked off to his sword, pulled it out from the snow and flung it over his shoulder. On the sly observing his brother's freely bleeding arm as Vergil's blue coat started to turn dark purple, he wondered how Vergil could have survived all this time, secret admirer saving his ass or not. Dante knew he himself hadn't been at all easy to protect, being so reckless and headstrong when it came to dangerous situations, and he _was_ almost invulnerable. Now, Vergil wasn't.

A warmth of pride trickled into his heart, and he turned back to face his stubborn brother, deciding to put fun on hold and do what he could to survive for a change, to survive and save his only remaining family.

"Run?" Dante suggested feigning impassiveness, his smile widening again. "They _do_ seem pretty slow…," he shrugged casually, seeing Vergil's quiet hesitation.

"Fine with me," Vergil agreed succinctly, dodging an incoming foot that was set on squashing him to a pile of mushy flesh, and jumping over another giant's sweeping hand. He never did much of running, and if so it was always into a battle, not from one, but what was the point in needless self-mutilation? Besides, what was the fun in chopping trees bare handed? He would only bleed…

They both legged it helter-skelter across the heaving woodland towards the falling sun, crisp snowflakes flying off their heels, small twigs and sharp branches lashing at their faces. Soon hearing nothing more than the heavy thumping of Vergil's heart, at least that was what Dante had taken it for, he looked to the side, worried that Vergil wasn't able to keep up. Instead however, while both still in full spring, his eye caught a glimpse of a swinging pair of mammoth feet right next to Vergil.

"Look out!" Dante pulled Vergil harshly towards him, steering him away from the lethal range of the meter long nails protruding so ominously from the moving tree-trunk. He glanced back, the other two goliaths stampeding close behind, already hot on their heels.

"Shit! Those oversized chopsticks can sure run fast! They didn't look it!" Dante blurted out through the deafening blows caused by the demons hitting other trees that began to topple and fall, slamming heavily into the ground all around them.

"They have much bigger feet, or is it trunks…," Vergil mumbled out automatically, still not very appreciative of the whole run away matter, thinking about what his mother would have thought; probably sighed heavily with relief…?

Suddenly Vergil felt a searing pain in his knee, tumbling quickly out of his brief reverie. He pulled on Dante's hand that took hold of him as his leg gave way and they both folded to the ground, rolling heavily into the thickets growing low in the thick layer of snow. Coming to a full stop a few seconds later, their quickened breaths painted small frozen clouds that slightly swayed the bushy leaves surrounding them.

Sitting up a little, Dante parted a few heavily leafed branches, catching a glimpse of the demons' titan backsides coming to a halt several hundred meters away. They already began to turn around, looking for their hunted prey that had so suddenly disappeared. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Dante cast a worried glance at Vergil. His brother was sitting up, all discontent but otherwise unperturbed, brushing of the gifts of the forest from his shoulders and his messed up hair.

"Oh, stop being so civilised… It's creepy," Dante shuddered and let his tongue show as he grimaced, then his face turned all bright as he picked up some giant-shed bark and dropped it back onto Vergil's not so clean head.

"No need to look all scruffy in hell, is there? Or they might mistake me for you," Vergil let a snide grin play across his face, shaking off Dante's persistent hand together with the dirty pieces of bark.

"You shouldn't care about that, since I would be there spoiling your image anyway," the younger twin smirked, patting Vergil on his hair, making them even flatter.

The mention of hell seemed to have rekindled some fire in Vergil as he looked up to the sky instead of endowing Dante with another customary acrid remark, his eyes gaining a much darker, determined shade. Not noticing this straight away, Dante laid down into the snow and chewed on a haulm of grass, folding one leg over the other one's knee, listening to the loud thumping of the returning monsters.

"Tell me Verge, before we die, what was the sex like? Quite honestly, I was shocked at your behaviour, proud, but really, really shocked," he tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably, nearly choking on the grass.

"Torrid…," was all that Dante got in a very quiet, almost bemused voice.

Pulling the chewed up stalk out of his mouth in bewildered astonishment, Dante twisted his head up to look at Vergil who was still gazing at the sky, scouring it as if looking for something. Vergil's eyes were narrowed and focused. _Yes, where are you, you arsonist prick, why don't you show yourself…_

"Come oooon, bro, keep going…tell me all the juicy details…," he grabbed Vergil's shoulder and shook him to gain his attention, "how did a prude like you get a girl to do it in public, huh? I'm seriously jealous."

Vergil ceased his study of the darkening sky and fixed his eyes on Dante. "I will not," the older twin's solemn response cut Dante's hopes into ribbons. "And stop being so perverted, it's disturbing."

Acknowledging Vergil's remark with an all over the face shine, Dante shot up his eyebrow, "I am the perverted one?" Seeing Vergil's dispassionate glare, he finally relented; digressing as he remembered something else Vergil had said that bugged him. "Then at least tell me why you said they would want to kill her for what she is?" Dante paused as he thought about it, watching Vergil wince ever so slightly at his question. "You know why she came to you, don't you," he looked at Vergil intently and for that moment his brother's face was unmoving and hard as a stone.

The thickened air between them dissipated suddenly as the loud noise of the hellish trees returned and Vergil's face relaxed, even lifting up into a faint smile. "All in good time…now we have a banquet to wrap up…"

At that very moment the entire forest began to rumble and shake as the increasing army of humongous trees probed the ground too close around them in an attempt to reveal the twin's hiding place.

"Hey, why don't we play a game?" Dante asked joyfully, swiftly sitting up. He knew he could have simply outrun the speedy wooden ogres at any time but could not help but enjoy his rare time alongside his brother, more so since Vergil actually appeared to loosen up and play by Dante's rules for once. He simply wouldn't miss out on that even if they were to be crushed to dust by a stinking rabid Bigfoot.

"You want to play a game when we are surrounded by a bunch of ignominious, clumsy, and thick as wood contraptions from hell who are about to promote us into the non-living status?" Vergil made his eyebrow shoot up but left his tone mildly interested.

"Well might as well die happy," Dante shrugged, grinning.

After a short glaring pause, Vergil reached behind his waist and pulled out the small dagger. "Then that's too bad, brother of mine, since we are not dying," he chuckled deviously, "I have a plan."

"Oh, we _are_ _so_ dead! Didn't we discuss already about you needing something lil bigger?" Dante teased, sitting there with a growing grin, seeing as a huge shower of bark and dirt descended onto Vergil's hair again, which his brother didn't omit to shake off instantly. Not thinking of fun was so hard…

Observing Dante's entertainment, Vergil's lips twitched with evilness as he enlightened his clueless twin. "You know, you may find my need to feel 'civilised' entertaining, but do you realise that your hair and face is filling up with old dry skin sheddings from decrepit demons that haven't washed for thousands of years?"

Dante's grin stopped growing and began to shrink rapidly. While still glaring at Vergil he started to swipe at his head frantically, using both of his mighty arms to shake off as much and as fast as possible as if he bumped his head into a nest of angry hornets.

On looking with his lips twitching almost uncontrollably, Vergil asked lovingly, holding a snort. "Better?"

"Eww, man, that's just gross! Talk about a bad case of dandruff!" Dante checked himself horrified, brushing off any remaining debris off his red coat with disgust.

"Aah, fantastic progress! Perhaps in time you will stink less too," Vergil placed his hand on Dante's arm and squeezed it sympathetically, "and until that blissful time I will try to _act_ civilised and abstain from throwing up," he gave Dante a breezy wink. "Now, let's kill these oversized suckers," Vergil was about to jump out of their makeshift hideaway and let the loose hell looser even more but the blank face that was still staring at him sternly from below stopped him. Vergil waved his hand in front of Dante's wide-agape mouth.

"The plan?" Vergil enquired emphatically.

Dante blinked and slipped out of his reverie, where he had tried to figure out if that expressive and enthusiastically insane alien thing that was in front of him really was Vergil.

"The plan?" he was only able to repeat stupidly, attempting to blink the seeming illusion away.

Vergil glanced past his bewildered twin at the chaos beyond, gaining in slight impatience. The stumping around them intensified to deafening levels, each causing a violent tremor that rippled through the ground, lifting up dirt, plants and roots with tremendous force. More and more colossal feet joined in, reducing the thick forest to a freshly ploughed and finely pounded field, meter by meter, their fragile shelter being next at any moment.

"The plan, you know, the course of action that will make us _not_ dead?" Vergil fixed his hardening sights back on Dante and shook him by the shoulders. "You take care of them," he cocked his chin up, towards the black circle of the summoning demons, "and I will start a bonfire," his eyes flashed with a sparkle of youthful hunger for an imminent and total annihilation.

Putting his doubts about Vergil's identity and sanity on hold for now, Dante turned his head from side to side sceptically. "You tried that already, remember? A total non-fire-starter!"

"Not with _this_ 'fancy pocket knife' as you so well put it. No, this will sure _tickle_ their fancy and _spark_ up some interest," Vergil's eyes flashed with a homicidal glee once more as he jumped out of the bushes, a mere second before a thick rain of monstrous needles obliterated the thickets, Dante rolling out of the way just in time.

They had been found and there was nowhere else to hide; Dante's mouth hang open with half wonder and half awe at the destruction around them before he lifted his eyes to the sky. There, in the soaring heights of the tips of the giant trees, against the dark orange glow of the horizon circled the summoning demons Vergil spoke off. They were about to descend on another majestic red tree and transform it into a vicious, unstoppable, and blood-thirsty monster from hell.

Thinking that Vergil had gone completely insane, but giving him the benefit of the doubt, Dante ground his teeth hard and willed himself to change, seeing that Vergil was nowhere to be found...until...

A flash of blue amidst the perpetual spray of soil and stones, a mere speck against the moving monstrosities, a blotch of colour in the countless dark clouds of needles descending from the sky; what was he doing... Vergil, standing there unmoving with his arms raised to the heavens, eyes closed as if to welcome the enormous crushing limbs that were readying to obliterate him from all sides...

Dante narrowed his eyes, now two mean slits of deep red in bottomless charcoal sockets, and a hollow, dark whisper rumbled through the chilly air, "not the game I had in mind bro, but you always liked to play with death too much...," he shook his head, coils of scarlet energy roiling around his body in thick ribbons.

A five meter foot plummeted down, torturing the ground with a dull, rumbling tremor, just in front of Vergil...so he hoped. He should not listen, he should grab his insane brother and be out of this hellish hole, Vergil would forgive him, eventually. But the only person he had ever trusted was his older brother, and since when was he actually _ever_ sane? The last shards of doubt dissipated, drowning in the pooling power of the devil he had just fully transformed into.

Stirring a spray of snow and muddy soil, a blood-red dart shot towards the swirling black clouds, shiny body armoured with tough scales spinning narrowly through a shower of closing giant hands. The devil in red scowled and looked upon the plundering demons below, the behemoths spawning a blizzard of destruction, sparing nothing to search out and kill its prey…

Only one thought lingered on the devil's mind as he shot through the dark mass of clouds and charged headlong into the battle.

_...just hope you still know what you are doing bro…_

* * *

_Well, I wonder if Vergil really knows what he is doing this time! How is he going to get out of this one, huh? Find out in the next one! Maybe, muhahaha..._

_Cheers and a giant wicked cookie to all those who have read and reviewed. :D Sorry if this one wasn't as good, I have been a little too distracted lately and cannot seem to find the joy in writing. Reviews would really help me find it again! You know what to do now after how many instalments of the review guide? So please don't just read quietly, say hello at least, and cheer my grumpiness up... XD_

_Till next time, Tora._


	20. I wish you were my enemy

**I wish you were my enemy**

_Damn that unreliable egotistic twat_, Vergil cursed mentally, taking in one long heavy breath as he rolled to the side to avoid having his head turned into mince meat when a second giant foot swung like a deadly pendulum towards another, with him right in between. What didn't help at all was that the worse for wear derelicts from hell smelled like a thousand year old rot that never actually somehow got the chance to fully decompose, all amidst the stench of burning and the unholy cologne of hell, sticking around like an irritant fluffy poodle. To complete his misery they have trampled the frozen ground into a smelly icy mush that began to suck in his booted feet like a disgusting swamp.

"Primordial filthy-heeled Neanderthals," Vergil hissed, having no time to pinch his nose to fend off the smell or attempt to clean his acutely stained coat, as he was forced to flip back to his feet and pirouette out of the incessant mob of overzealous hardwood logs intent on squeezing him into ten pints of fresh blood juice.

After leaping backwards like an Olympic jumper way too close over a horizontal spiky pounce of some sort and while vaulting across a cushy mossy knuckle, Vergil afforded himself a glance towards the twilight drenched sky. He didn't want to admit it, but what was really missing from there was that bright, white-hot inferno that should have been raging above his head just about now. Did his calculations backfire? Could it be that the fire-demon's tactics have changed and the prick was no longer interested in protecting him, and was instead busy reducing that clueless girl to a charred flesh on a bony stick?

A sudden pang of guilt in the form of brewing nausea skipped through his stomach as he realised he had been staking his assumptions on something he had no clue about himself. Or wait, he left out the calculating part altogether, didn't he? Was he not more concerned about showing off while contradictingly having the need to protect the girl? A girl out of everything!

_Get hold of yourself, you would have sensed him_, Vergil mumbled in his mind, effectively shutting down the thoughts and feelings he felt so adamantly ashamed for, because he had no control over them. How could he possibly have feelings for a woman, or _anyone_ for that matter? He didn't have feelings, period. That is why he managed to last for so long, and was able to cool hell's boiling heat to a gentle simmer whenever it fancied a dip into his brain. And a damsel rescuer extraordinaire he sure wasn't either. So why was he finding himself more off the ground lately, as if weightless...

Vergil felt the pine scented wetness of the needles near while his thoughts kept nagging at his mind, his foot stuck in something behind while he subconsciously made the leap forward to get over a root that looked like a hairy tentacle. He hit the prickly little buggers nose first, but the real pain shot through his twisted ankle. He sure felt _that_! Damn feelings, if he only knew what to do with them!

The girl was safe, damn his distracting worry to hell, he just needed to figure out how to terminate these irate abominations while battling to accept all these new experiences that he had avoided with his cold control and lonely introversion most of his life. And it had worked!

Just the same, to hell with calculations, there was no time to dwell on details when one found himself at hair's width from death at every step, so might as well die happy; Vergil ran Dante's words through his head, readying his fancy pocket knife in his hand while wondering what happy would actually mean for him. _Better leave that for later and concentrate on the job, while I still can_, he growled inwardly. The small blade would get stuck soon after he had thrown it, he knew that well, but what the heck, might as well kill at least one of those angry trolls, for what it was worth...

Twisting his body painfully so that he could select a suitable target, Vergil willed himself to ignore the cracking bones in his leg that lay trapped by what he now saw was a massive jagged talon protruding from the stump of one giant red tree. It pierced the base of his shin and went right through the bone, shattering it, hence he had thought he had merely broken his ankle, not knowing it was much, much worse.

The offending demon was towering above him, its hideous face grimacing maniacally as it was busy swinging down its needle armoured clubber of a hand, the expectation of a kill gleaming in its hollowed out, blackness filled eyes. Yes, the target was chosen. Vergil swiftly tossed the dagger to catch it by the tip of its sharp blade, readying it for the throw. He had only one chance and with a better luck the demon would release his leg before the others would get the chance to pound him into the cold, wet ground and bury him alive.

Narrowing his moonstone blue eyes to shake off the brief pain induced haze, Vergil brought all his senses forth, shutting off every other vision and sound around him to focus on the bent down demon. The infernal behemoth began to sense the end of its injured prey, its vicious mouth opening into a monstrous snarl, the feeling of a thrill and killing frenzy pushing out deposits of black sap that bubbled at the corners of its gaping hole like it had just swallowed a bottle of arson.

This was it. The tree sap, the perfect fuel that would illuminate the skies with bright shine, with spectacular fireworks, just the suitable send off for his trip to hell...

"You are barking up the wrong tree!" Vergil hissed and clenched his jaw to prepare for the agony as all his muscles strained for the demanding throw.

The blade was thrust; it sailed through the rain of shed bark and flying parts of the forest, narrowly passing through countless grabbing fingers, in a perfectly straight line, directly for the scabrous corner of the gaping maws. A faint glow began to envelope the power infused devil's arm, lingering and dancing on its tip for a small moment as if savouring its nearing meal that it was about to devour with unstoppable, ravenous hunger.

Then a bright flash of fire whipped across the darkening sky, coinciding with an ear popping rumble that pierced through the air, and Vergil instinctively dove to glue himself to the ground, face down, shielding himself from the inevitable after-effects of the melting explosion.

The smell of burning enveloped him and a gust of wind raked through his hair, he felt his body jolt and the pain jumped back to the forefront of his mind as the gigantic fist smashed down mere inches from his body. In between the terrible howls, the sounds of hissing filled the sky as the burning pieces of the torn monster floated down like giant flares, scattering across the battered ground.

A brief moment of quiet ensued and prompted Vergil to lift his head, eyes ending up peering at the horrid scenes above him. Two more of the demonic abominations clashed with the writhing fury of the fire engulfed monster, all three toppling over as they lost their balance, a labyrinth of grossly heavy limbs coming down with a maddening grind.

"And I was so close...so close to living...," Vergil let out a sigh, realising that he was still very much pinned the same way he was before. The one inch thick root failed to come out of his leg and now he was at the mercy of the falling monstrosities, unable to move in the sticky ground. Closing his eyes, he prepared for his imminent death.

At least the thoughts of Dante being alive and well eased him in his personal grievance. His brother would have no trouble sending the black assassins back to where they came from, and could simply outrun the tree-demons since they were not even summoned to kill Dante in the first place. And the girl...his younger, generous brother would take a good care of her, they would have been well suited in both personality and cheerful outlook on life, and perhaps with Dante...she would never fall a victim to her highly volatile demonic heritage and live a more human and peaceful life...just like Vergil always wanted.

_After all, she is just like you, brother_, Vergil breathed out calmly, feeling the enormous weight closing in on him from high above, yet strangely at the same time all the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The twins' embrace before the battle had been what he needed, to know that Dante understood and that he would not judge him for what Vergil had done. There was only one more thing to say before he could die in peace...

"Goodbye brother, and...forgive me."

"Oh sure, you shove my bruised ass back on that square horse and I am supposed to forgive you?" the unmistakably feminine yet fiercely outraged voice made his eyes snap open and roll his head to the side.

Vesta stood there on shaky legs by Mercy, one arm outstretching in a dismissive gesture in his direction, when something carved the air and landed in her hand.

"And get this away from me!" Vesta flung the offensive dagger uncaringly back to where it came from, putting an extra strength into her throw while leaving her fuming attention purely on Vergil.

Blinking to try and blank her unexpected presence out of his sharpening mind, for now, Vergil snapped his eyes upwards in an attempt to pursue the blade's path. All he got to see was a surge of molten inferno slamming with a tremendous force into the three demons that were nearly on top of him, hurling their colossal bodies in a veil of a bright yellow light into the air. Just as a massive mushroom cloud of fire flowered from the spot where they have landed, a sharp flash shot back from the falling demons towards the girl.

Eyes widening as the intense explosion reflected in their depths, Vergil could not believe he had not made the connection before. That arrogant and perverted man, fearless of Vergil's wrathful glare after he had plunged that knife into the girl's soft skin, had been no ordinary human. He was the devil, his unwanted saviour and protector; the one who burned down his mansion after ensuring Vergil had seen what he wanted him to see...the map.

"Honestly, this place is giving me nightmares! I thought I was dying, set on fire and hauled to hell on a way too wide a horse, all in one go, it really wasn't pleasant at all!"

Letting his mind numbly skip her words, Vergil rolled his wide eyes to follow the devil arm's return to Vesta's moving hand. She had thrown her hand into the air once more as she had lamented on, her hazy mind oblivious to the armageddon exploding violently in the blossoming darkness all around her.

"I said, I don't want this already!" snarling away all that excess steam that seemed to have been building up under her skin, she kept hurling the accursed blade, that so irritably persisted on returning to her, into the dimming light.

The molten hell-spawn energy, swallowing hundreds of tons of extra hard demonic lumber in less than twenty seconds, began to dissipate, flakes of burning chippings falling silently to meet the cold of the ground that started to shake once more. Behind the flickers, the enraged faces of two more monsters swam through the glittering haze to come to view.

His mouth now hanging open, Vergil failed to notice his broken leg had been freed, instead watching in trance as the fancy pocket knife sailed the air yet again. Was this real? How could she wield all this power? He really could not tell, he only confirmed one thing in his mind...

_Now I know who you are, demon..._

Morphing its angry expression to bewildered, the nearest monster swiped its massive claw to catch the pesky knife that put such a hasty end to its brothers. The hand began to glow, its mossy coating gaining a luminous sheen as if a swarm of fireflies came to life within.

"So can we get out of here now? This place really stinks and one minute it's cold, then too hot, honestly, I haven't brought any spare clothes for this," her arms folding firmly across her chest, Vesta observed Vergil as he lay there, staring at the scowling behemoth as it stopped in its tracks completely, its deadly tree trunk of a foot inches from levelling him with the squelchy ground.

The demon's black hole for a mouth twisted into a shape of disbelief as it observed the sinister red veins creeping outward from the burning core of its hand, covering the rest of its body, streaking down to the crooked roots and up to its bushy hair. The evil infused timber started to heat up and crack, millions of crevices were spun like orange-glowing webs across its living bark. Black smoke rose from the expanding chasms until it imploded and collapsed inwards into thousands of sizzling embers that scattered and swirled into the air. Giving out one last spasm, the hand still holding the dagger fluttered and dissipated into tiny flakes of ash, the blade now dark and silent, left falling somewhere to the dusky ground.

Seeing its comrade disintegrate so rapidly and unstoppably right in front of its hollow eyes, the remaining tree-demon refocused its vengeful attention to the lonesome, still figure under its feet. Producing a deafening howl that carried like a wolf's cry into the descending night, the maddened beast swung its wooden foot as far backwards as it could muster, readying to sweep Vergil of the face of the earth in one deadly, mighty kick.

Eyes as pale as melting iceberg looked up to catch a glance of the distancing sharp talons of the gigantic limb, then shot to the swampy soil, frantically searching the softened surface for any signs of the demonic knife. A flash of the hilt pricked the corner of his eye and Vergil instantly twisted his body and kicked off his healthy foot to propel himself towards it. Hissing in pain, he reached out with his hand, the tips of his fingers brushing the cold of the steel before it sunk into the cold liquid ground, lost.

He felt a gust of cold air rake through his hair and he rolled away barely in time, the sharp ends of the prolonged claws ripping into his coat and digging into his flesh. The hellish pendulum took another swing back, the demon hard set on hammering Vergil into the slushy ground that now started to suck him in to the point he could barely move. The enraged monster yowled once more, ripping other trees and clusters of overgrowth with its hands, tearing all it could grab in hellish fury. Cursing in distress, his mind working overtime, Vergil turned his head tiredly and heavily, yet acutely to locate the girl.

He found himself at peace before, about to welcome his death in the heat of a battle but now, why could he not stand to fall when he had her as an audience? Was it a subconscious resentment to fail again in the presence of the blood of his worst enemy, despite the fact the girl wasn't aware of who she was and had not once shown even a hint of a hostile behaviour. On the contrary... Why was his inner peace interrupted by all these feelings, feelings that he couldn't learn to enjoy or hate if he was dead? Darn these complications! This wasn't supposed to be so hard, why was everything concerning women so far from black and white?

_I wish you were my enemy, then, I would know what to do..._

Wincing at the charging myriad of emotions that swept through him, Vergil would have shouted at the ignorant, hellish forces that put him in this situation in the first place. Instead he bit into his tongue to stop himself from throwing his first ever nerve shattering tantrum, and forced himself to concentrate on getting out of this dirty mess. As wrong as it felt, she was his only hope. Ironic really, shame that her father was dead, Vergil pondered if Mundus was tossing and turning right now in his hellish grave.

But how could he get Vesta to call the dagger when she despised its presence and to add to it, didn't have a clue she was able to summon the devil arm with a mere gesture of her hand? That was it, having only milliseconds to come up with a solid plan, Vergil's stomach clenched in indignity at what he was about to do considering his male warrior pride was still firmly attached to him.

With a second delay filled with hesitation Vergil yelled firmly at the 'out of senses' girl, "You want to get out of this place? Then help me and pull me out," he outstretched his hand, enticing her to come to him, his eyes hastily rolling to the side to check on the demon that should have just about been busy squashing him into a muddy-bloody pulp. To his brief relief, the newborn swamp also caused the monster to stumble and lose its footing, but the giant was already recovering, coming fast to pound him into now not-so-fresh blood juice with its tightly clenched, elephantine fist.

Focusing back on the fuzzy-headed girl, Vergil's breath hitched as she started to move closer as if finally regaining her wits, her hands however still tightly folded over her chest. _Move your hand already, just move your hand._ Vergil nearly swallowed the stinking muddy water melted from the dirty snow, his reaching out hand reduced to clawing at the freezing cold surface of the bog.

Dragging himself through the dense mire as he turned to look behind him, he could feel the swamp sucking him in deeper, his body feeling heavier and heavier, being squeezed like an overripe blueberry. Never mind the hysteric demon, he would be out of it in a matter of minutes if he wasn't pulled out soon, and that most certainly _wasn't_ the way he wanted to go!

"Some help?" he finally strained through his chattering teeth, the cold mud that stuck to every part of him turning him into a solid frozen icicle. Losing the feeling in his legs he wondered if she would even be able to pull him out, not knowing her true strength and whether she was still disoriented after her devil's side brutal awakening. Even Dante had lost it at first, going for a deep dive off the tower, berserker mode, only to be swallowed up by a slimy, reeking as hell, flying leviathan...surely Dante couldn't have enjoyed that!

Vergil felt the demon and its rancid breath right on top of him again, only he could not move, his muscles frozen stiff, all he could do was listen as the doom descended upon him. Vesta wasn't going to make it in time, she was still too far and the dagger was meantime sinking deeper into the dark pits of the freezing swamp.

Vergil closed his eyes in apathy, part from exhaustion, part to let his mind wander. Even if he did live, would he know how? Could he learn to live with a woman, the daughter of his mortal enemy, could he accept who she was? Could she accept him for what he was? Could he learn to warm up enough or was his coldness embedded too far in his past that fed his lonesome soul? Whether he lived or died, Vesta would be better off alone or with Dante, he would know what to do...

Vergil sensed that telltale sign, the cold rush of wind sweeping over him as the massive hand sang through the air to finish him off. It was like a whistle at first, turning into a louder and louder involution of dissonant tones that carried over his skin like a tingling electric pulse. He knew subconsciously that the sound should have been raising a feeling of irritation and discomfort inside him but instead its distant familiarity was strangely comforting, lifting him up from the depths of his hopeless meditation. He opened his eyes.

It was so hazy at first, a blurred image of giant limbs, swimming through the air erratically, swiping at the monstrous head above, the hole for a mouth wide open as if in an immense pain. The outlines grew sharper, a hand so small and slender crossing his view. The monster directly in his view, he could now see it was writhing in agony, the song piercing the darkness with its bright, cheerful light. A song that he knew from somewhere, from the first time that he had met her...

'_You are my sunshine,...'_

A touch of hotness like the sun against his frozen hand, it made him turn and look straight into the big brown eyes that peered at him with the sincerest warmth and affection. An endowment he wouldn't know how to return, one he didn't deserve. She was back to full senses and she was still the same, just like Dante had been. It had been only him, only Vergil who had allowed himself to change for the worst with the curse of his awakening...

"Come on, it's really hard to sing in this stinky, stuffy air. And it's getting dark, so let's get out of here," slightly coughing but quickly making her face play into a smile, Vesta braced her legs against the more solid edge of the muddy pool and pulled with all she had. Vergil's eyes rolled and blinked, as the tendons in his arm stretched ferociously and his shoulder nearly popped out of its socket.

"Easy!" he hissed, resigning himself to eternal solitude mentally, deriving at the conclusion that it was for the best. After all, enjoyment and emotions took too much out of him, it had been only a few hours and he was already a wreck, a very _dirty_ one, in more than one sense. Was he even himself anymore? And what was the true himself? The cold, heavily guarded introvert chased to a dark, lonesome corner by pointless fears endowed by hell itself, or the self-driven, proud and fearless warrior able to have it all by embracing life in its fullest and laugh at those trying to disagree? Perhaps, he needed to stop this sporadic nonsense, regroup somewhere quiet and work out who he actually wanted to be...

Refocused on her again, Vergil pointed out evenly, "you stopped..."

"You were hurting...and I don't want to hurt you," Vesta explained in a soft, concerned voice.

"No, you stopped... singing," Vergil paused mid sentence, confused by her inexplicable shows of affection when all he had done was to give her blunt reality in return. He was the one hurting her, not the other way around, how could she not see that? He would have gotten lost in her eyes that have gained an extra luminous sheen of strength and happiness, the same that he wished he could possess, but some unpleasantly pressing matters had to be addressed first.

Vergil shook his head sharply to dismiss her concern and his reverie, he had to become cold again, perhaps make her see sense and warm up to Dante instead. He was unstable, at least till he could find himself again after shutting off the constant corruption of hell once and for all, once he was either dead, or reunited with his power. Tying up the runaway feelings with a makeshift rope inside him, Vergil dulled himself for the pain and heartache to come, like he always did. "The demon, it's recovering. You need to pull me out now," he stressed in a firm, forcibly monotonous voice, even though he was unsure yet of what he was going to do once he was out of the swamp.

He couldn't simply ask her to call the dagger as she would most likely start to ask questions and they didn't have the time for that, not to mention he didn't want to be coming up with the answers. He had to do it without her knowledge somehow, and fast.

Vesta pulled again, unknowingly hard, and Vergil almost forgot not to yell out as his stretched out body and mangled leg refused to budge at first from the clutches of the sucking swamp, then gave way and sharply scraped over the crusty edge of the freezing bog. Rejoicing inwardly he still had a feeling in his limbs, Vergil tried to jump up to his feet as soon as he had been dragged out. Impatience and the lack of blood flow made short of his attempt however, and he toppled back into the mud, his numb legs folding right under him like saggy straw.

Spotting a cluster of demonic claws flash nearby in the shadows together with a very angered and sinister face, Vesta tagged urgently on Vergil's arm, concerned alarm reflecting in her big eyes. "Vergil, you have to get up! I can't drag you by myself onto the horse," she pleaded pressingly, suddenly fully aware that they could both be dead in a matter of seconds, her shaky arms wrapping gently around his soaking chest.

"Just...give me a second here," Vergil mumbled as he struggled to take in air and fend off the buzzing haze, his head like a helium filled balloon trying to swim up while the rest of him weighing several tons. The icy swamp had kept a soothing pressure on his skewered leg, but now the wound swelled and pulsated, pumping out blood freely to mingle with the muddy brown, spilling all over the ground.

"We don't have a second!" Vesta clenched her muscles and started to lift him up but froze as the river of scarlet flowing from under him came to her view. Panic rising in her throat, feeling him go limp in her arms, the thought of singing again capsized before she could open her mouth. It was too late.

A nightmare was replaying itself in front of her open eyes. The crooked, meter long claws crossed her widening vision and sunk deep into the crimson mire spilling around her. Hypnotized by the sudden stillness manifested by her growing fear, Vesta pondered why those talons didn't drive through her flesh, there was no pain and in fact those monstrous, sharply polished nails were dropping down right next to them, slightly too far away to cause any harm. Did the demon miss? Her eyes, glazed over by worry-filled trepidation, looked up in question to greet the cold rush of breeze that swept through her dishevelled hair, the answer coming down fast and hard.

The hideous maws, hollow and lined with pointy teeth soaked in eternal blackness, were prolonging into unnatural shape, and diving down like a sadistic predator, dead set on freezing its prey in a cage of terror before devouring its meal alive and warm. Able to only gape in horror, Vesta could swear she could see the balefires of hell flickering in the depths of the expanding black hole, its vile fetid essence dripping down to stain her hair. She heard the calls for her name, enticing and calming, drawing her inside, as if she belonged, as if it was her home...

Mouth moving wide open, she let go of Vergil, her arm outstretching to meet with the approaching abyss of darkness. "Take me..where I belong...," she listened to a voice so much like her own, only darker, somewhere in a distant corner of her hazy mind, the image of fire licking at hollowed out faces that screamed in agony, over and over, dancing in her expanding pupils.

Something snatched her other arm, and the cold breeze soon turned warm, exploding into searing heat, the voices cut off abruptly, the beckoning feeling of belonging gone. Her mouth hanging open, Vesta blinked, the wall of fire becoming smaller and smaller as it drew away together with the howls of torment filling the darkness. Snapped back from her hellish trance, she looked down, as the pressure on her hand remained.

"Next time use a toothpick, horseshit breath!" Vergil spat out towards the dying demon and began to cough, holding his hand to his mouth, the closeness of the stench of hell nearly causing him to black out as he rushed all his energy to reinforce the blockades in his mind. He limply let go of her arm and sunk back into the dirt.

Close to exhaustion and allowing himself to relax a bit more now that the last demon had been incinerated, he let the girl haul him across the ploughed plain as she wordlessly wound her arms around him again, somehow feeling that he still needed to be moved away from the nonexistent danger.

At least his gamble had paid off and he had managed to move her hand so that she would have called the dagger from the deep swamp and had then used her undiscovered strength strike hard into the monster's wide open jaws. The demonic blade had become stuck in the jagged teeth, and the monster's head had flown backwards in a ball of fire.

Still Vergil was left to struggle to comprehend, and come to terms with, how she managed to wipe out a horde of abhorrent devils, where neither he nor Dante could succeed, without even knowing it. He felt a stab of shame and envy in his gut, mingled with a strong longing for his beloved sword. If only he had Yamato in his hands, nothing could have threatened his life so easily again. Right now, he was being saved by a girl, a hybrid, who had no experience or even the slightest knowledge of her abilities and no idea how to fight, and it was hard to swallow.

As a meagre consolation, Vesta seemed like she wasn't going to even realise what had happened and she would have not been able to do anything without that dagger. In all fairness he had not seen a devil arm this powerful before, one she was able to summon, and it only confirmed his earlier suspicions. Yet still, as a much bigger consolation, Dante was nowhere to be seen, as he would most certainly not let this slip so easily...

"I see you are still playing the 'getting yourself killed in the most horrible way' game to impress a girl Vergil?"

Damn his rotten luck and Dante's infamous timing! Vergil bit into his lower lip, unsure which pain he was actually trying to subdue at that very moment.

"If it is my death that should impress anyone then perhaps I should expedite my return to a full health. Then the impressing would be that much harder," the older twin growled out, ending up panting, the acute lack of blood in his body causing him to sway even though he was sitting down.

"Ouch, grumpy! And I thought back there you hit your head or something with all that unnatural cheerfulness. So nice to have you back!" Dante swooped down to land next to the duo, the scaly print on his red coat subtly fading out.

"Very strangely, I could say the same...," Vergil's faint voice slipped out of his weakening lungs, his head lolling to the side, the wet mud dripping from his dirty, freely hanging hair onto the once blue coat, now soaked in pretty much everything that could have been described as disgusting.

"Well at least the female company seemed to have improved your English. Hey, come to think of it, for the last two hours I could actually understand what you were saying! And are you trying on a new look too?" Dante wore a wide grin of sheer excitement as he teased in one long breath, using his prodding finger to lift a suffused strand of Vergil's mucky hair, unable to express his immense relief at seeing Vergil alive in any other way. He didn't want to push his older brother for another air tight hug, considering his twin was close to passing out already.

"Dante, he is bleeding out...," Vesta pointed out, her face full of concern, her eyes brimming with mirth and relief at seeing Dante.

"Yeah, you can let go now hun, I'll take care of this," forcing himself to calm down with a mental slap, Dante placed one steady hand on Vesta's shoulder to gently pull her away, the other to support Vergil's back. "Speaking of health, where is it that we are heading?" the twin in red bent down and met his brother's half lidded blues meaningfully.

"The mountain," Vergil answered tiredly, closing his eyes.

Pulling out a translucent green gem from his pocket, Dante looked away to the distance where the last streaks of yellow traversed the sky, enhancing the snow covered peak in the encroaching night. His eyes froze for a few moments, pinned to the eerie stillness of the majestic mountain enshrouded in mystery as a feeling of something foreboding and ancient crawled unpleasantly down his spine. He didn't quite know what to make of it, only that whatever was in there should well be left alone.

"What is it?" a quiet female voice jerked him out of his disposition and Dante shuddered to shake off the nasty sensations before whipping his head to Vesta. He nearly answered a bitter 'nothing' when he realised she had meant the stone, and not why he had been scowling at the dark mountain.

"A special treat for devils," Dante's smile returned with a devious twist as he tossed the demonic stone into the air and caught it above Vergil's leg where he skilfully stuffed it into the blisteringly red, raw wound. Paying no attention to Vergil's violent yet silent recoil at the unexpected barrage of pain, the younger twin endowed Vesta with a flirting wink, thinking of the wound in her chest he could have had the pleasure of healing, "you can have some too, let's see if I have a spare...,"

"Let's not!" Vergil wheezed so abruptly, his throat was still on fire when he gruffly corrected himself, "...waste time here, we have to move and find a safe place to pass the night. The mountain awaits us tomorrow," he began to peel himself off the ground, literally, keeping his injured leg straight as it was still too stiff to bend.

"Whoa, cool!" Vesta suddenly called out, her mouth and browns wide in amazement as she peered at Vergil. She didn't quite know what she found more fascinating, the rapidly retracting deep lacerations on Vergil's back or the fact that she could actually see them so clearly in the dark. His wounds had been healing fast, but not _this_ fast, and she sure didn't notice having a night vision before...but then since when was anything normal around those two...

Spying two heavy stares on her, one hellishly amused, one bitterly displeased, Vesta quickly shrugged and quietly humming, turned around to walk over to Mercy.

"You are so going to enjoy this!" a heavy arm landed on her shoulders from behind and Vesta ended up peering into a face lightened with a goofish show of Dante's white teeth. His face remained stuck in a blissful expression as he sank into the reminiscence of his first days after discovering the benefits and perks of devil's powers.

"Enjoy what?" Vesta asked gaily, sending a loving glance over Dante's warm shoulder to Vergil who hastily limped over to her side, the side free from Dante.

"Enjoy a pleasant walk, enjoy not having to sit on a horse for whole twelve hours," Vergil's lips twitched as he turned his head to her, willing himself to push aside an emotion that he had not recalled feeling before; a sharp discomfort in his stomach evoking a dire need to punch Dante into that contented face. His eyes skimming glaringly over Dante's arm draped in such a friendly fashion over Vesta's shoulders, Vergil forced himself to be reminded of his own deliberations. Isn't that what he wanted? Then why was he feeling like this?

"You kidding? I am enjoying this _whole_ wild adventure," she chimed loudly as she twirled out of Dante's embrace, to Vergil's secret gratification, and kept turning in circles, hands wide open to run her fingers through the chill of the air. "In fact, all that excitement has left me bursting for a wee," all out of breath and smiling widely, she stopped dancing, and pointed to a cluster of nearby bushes that were by some miracle left standing. "I'll be right back, so don't you two leave without me," with that Vesta's small silhouette sunk into the shadows, leaving noticeable silence behind.

Not moving for a while as he watched her disappear with a fast thump of his heart, Vergil cleared the tightening feeling in his throat and asked in a calm, monotonous voice, "I take it, the business has been taken care of?"

"Well of course, the business was so pathetic that it was dissolved without any major complications. The Hell Corp will sure think twice about butting in on our turf again anytime soon," Dante reassured his brother enthusiastically, then silently made a few steps ahead and stopped, turning to face Vergil. Now blocked by Dante, the older twin's eyes shifted from the spot where Vesta had vanished, and studied Dante's features as their festive shine collapsed into a stiff seriousness.

"So, you wanted to talk, in private? I think this is as good a chance as any, don't you think?" Dante asked, his tone mild yet assertive as he folded his arms, tilting his head in an expecting manner. He wasn't going to let this go, not this time, and his whole demeanour showed it.

Vergil stilled for a brief moment, then extended his senses to the deep night as if contemplating whether they were truly alone, then slowly, he limped closer and fixed his icy blues on Dante. "Yes, let's talk..."

* * *

_So what does Vergil know and is he going to tell Dante? Is he going to let go of Vesta or finally sort out his feelings? Will we ever know? Read on...and you just might find out, muhahaha!_

_Although I don't think you need the Review Guide now, for old times' sake (and for any newcomers), here is another instalment, and it's party time after all those exams! Wheee!_

_1) So rev up your wild party animal mode and hit that Review button with all you have as it will put a huge wide evil grin on the writer's face too!_

_2) Now carefully, position your reading device in such a way so you can hit it with flying objects from a distance. Soft flying things, people, nothing destructive, sorry!_

_3) Now prepare and start firing those rubber bands, zipping balloons, confetti and other fun things! Two points for every hit. And you get a giant soggy brownie for every ten points! Now, how fun is that! Mwahahahaaaaaaa_

_Ok, ok, I have not gone mad, yet, much, but seriously – absolutely smashing if you review, just don't smash your devices!_

_See ya next time and have an awesome summer,_

_Yours truly,_

_Tora_

_PS: A huge thanks to all who reviewed, I reply to all of you personally, so to **LEE CHAN **- my sincerest gratitude for your review, I have checked out your facebook profile btw, thank you so much! Cookies all around!_


	21. You should know

**You should know... **

It was so terribly quiet in the palely moonlit night, it reminded Dante of the moments standing at his mother's grave each year as his older brother was about to light the lonely white candle sitting on the pitch black stone Dante had just swiped clean of snow. Vergil had worn the same frozen expression as he was now on his mud splattered face, that slight uncomfortable, nervous twitching was there, just as those intense blues piercing the darkness, holding that strange light behind, that sign saying that Vergil was either holding something back or was about to engage in an uncomfortable talk. And this would not be just any _something_ or any awkward _talk_, it would be about what Vergil guarded the most, about his innermost demons and family affairs...

Vergil shifted ever so slightly to relieve his injured leg and took in the much fresher air, before his moonstone eyes swayed to Dante, the mysterious shimmer behind his narrow pupils erupting into a sharp flash as he spoke in a deadly serious, flat tone.

"How much do you know?" Vergil kept his eyes on Dante's, scrutinizing their reaction. Even in the dark, with his impaired devil senses, he could see the brightness behind Dante's pale blues and any slightest changes in dilation clearly.

Vergil noticed the brief yet very potent dip into a darker shade in Dante's eyes as the younger twin winced, seemingly not expecting Vergil to start with a question and hence being handed the unpleasant and unexpected responsibility of talking first. Vergil stayed still, secretly pleased as he knew his brother and his reactions too well, and practicing on him had reinforced his confidence that his observations and judgements remained unchallenged. Vergil was certain now that he was not far from the truth, that he was right about the girl's innocence...

"I was told...," Dante started with bile in his throat he had to swallow first as the horrible conversation with Memphis sliced painfully through his mind, "...that they stripped you of all that made you a devil...," he paused, noticing Vergil's hardening features, and in his mind saw Vergil squeeze out the hilt of Yamato...if he still had it. Oh, how Dante relished the moments of killing Mundus as they flashed through his mind, now so much more than ever before.

"And?" Vergil prompted, keeping a silent eye on the dead quiet surroundings.

"...and that for escaping hell they have been hunting you down ever since...," Dante continued, keeping the images of maimed Mundus close by for moral support, "..._unsuccessfully_...thanks to your secret admirer...," his lips curled up into a satisfies sneer with a hint of disapproval and jealousy, which Vergil batted back with a dismissing sneer of his own.

Dante's lips dipped down again as he moved on, "...only now there seem to be another player who is not being very patient and wants your death delivered on a silver platter, and rather pronto," he shifted and breathed out, placing his fists on his hips confidently, the scary part now being over. "So now we arrive at my original question, who wants to bite your nuts off?"

Remaining motionless for a short moment, Vergil gathered his thoughts while abstaining from rolling his eyes at Dante's inapt comment, judging how much he should let Dante know. Dante was far beyond needing protection, after all so far he had taken the news without bashing Vergil's head in or throwing a ranting tantrum filled to the brim with smart assed sarcasm as he used to do. Vergil brought his hand to his soiled face and wiped away the dirt, and as he stared at it, deciding the bullshit was to be left for his enemies, not for his family. The trust that had been given should be returned. Time to tell Dante the truth...

"The present ruler of hell," Vergil kept his voice low and composed as he deliberated his own words.

"What? No offence bro, but why would the 'new Mundus' want _you_ dead and not me, the infamous and one and only ruler slayer? I mean what did you do, make out with his daughter behind his back and in front of his minions?"

Oh yes, that was the other thing they needed to have a _chat_ about...Vergil thought distraughtly, and raised his eyebrow questioningly, Dante watching him mistook that look for an 'oh you idiot' gesture and instantly flew to much darker conclusions. "Oh fuck bro, I thought we have been over this, over beer or two, and that you happened to mention in passing, and intoxication doesn't count as an excuse by the way, that there would be no more trouble on your part, and that means no more attempts to reign in hell if you at all care to remember..."

"Dante!" Vergil scowled instantly, cutting Dante off before his blabbering could insult him any further and he was forced to remodel his brother's face into a much flatter and less flattering version. True indeed, _haven't_ they been over this? "I swear on my mother's empty grave Dante, if you ever let that roll off your tongue again...I will permanently remove it and feed it to the fish in the lake," Vergil hissed sharply, his eyes narrowing dangerously, ready to devour. How could Dante still think Vergil would want to set even his little toe in that disgusting, despicable, desecrating realm that had stripped him down to bare bones, and then thrown them to him to crawl around in empty darkness as a mindless, begging guard dog?

"Then what is it?" Dante shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, inwardly puffing out air in relief. After all with all that erratic behaviour of his brother recently, who knew what the hell occupied his mind? And not knowing it was exactly that, Dante would rather run around happy and tongue-less than chase Vergil away from the demon world with his mouth still intact and capable.

"Let's just say, I have become both the missing link and an evolutionary threat to the future of both the demon world and the human world," Vergil said pensively, folding his arms behind his back as he turned his stare into the black woods, surmising Vesta should have been coming back at any time now.

"Now I lost _my_ link," Dante mumbled dully, letting his mouth fall and jump back again. "Would you care to find it for me?"

Vergil allowed his sight to set on Dante again, turning his back on the forest swallowed by darkness. "What I mean is that going to that mountain may inevitably alter or preserve both worlds. The one who has been secretly ensuring my survival for the past week or so seeks what belongs to me and plans to kill me once I have it in my hands, then use it for one purpose only..."

"By what belongs to you, you mean Yamato," it was more of a self-confirmation than a question as Dante began to rub his chin, deeply engrossed in the conversation. It felt really good to be fully involved for once and he wasn't going to screw this up by easy distractions.

"Yes, only Yamato's protection will guarantee my freedom from hell. Its power would create an unbreakable seal around my mind, rendering my conscience well beyond the corrupting reaches of the damned realm."

"Shit, bro. Now I know why you didn't want me to go there, tough luck man! And I seriously don't think I ever will. I mean, I wouldn't want any pervy sleazebags poking around my perfectly healthy, smartass mind, if you know what I mean," a wicked smile appeared on his face but it quickly disappeared as Vergil gave him the look and so Dante got back to business.

"But this admirer of yours, let me guess, she wants to use Yamato to open a portal right? What else?" Dante let out a sarcastic chuckle. No one, besides Vergil, knew how to actually use Yamato properly apart from opening frigging portals. That figured! Unless she, assuming it was a woman and Dante truly hoped so for Vergil's sake, wanted the katana to hang it up in a display cabinet, together with Vergil... His eyebrows knitted together as he then asked the dreaded question, "so what is the one purpose?"

"To return as the new ruler of darkness and use the fully restored power to destroy that which has been a banishment and prison in the light, the human world," Vergil announced in an even, composed tone, his eyes however hardened to resemble two solid pieces of pure ice.

"What else," Dante rolled his eyes. Yet another cliché and yet another nutter to eradicate. "But how can you be so sure? You _know_ who she is? Must be a tough chick to stalk _you_ around! Or really stupid..."

"Yes. I know who it is. Unfortunately," Vergil's tone dipped even lower, the look in his eyes could murder with a single glance as a dark shadow settled in their depths.

Sensing his brother's rapid descent into bad memories, Dante quickly digressed, guessing the present was a much healthier subject. "And our greenhorn devil girl? As much as I hate to say this, she has a role in this too, doesn't she?" Dante made a sour face and bit into his lower lip. He still couldn't help but like Vesta even if it would turn out that she was an enemy. He just really hoped that she wasn't.

"Yes, she has brought me the map that leads to the ancient ruins buried deep within the mountain where I can reacquire Yamato. Although...she does not see she has been used and manipulated to come to me, or even that she has been born a half demon just like..."

Vergil paused, feeling the quickened breath warming up the chilly night's air behind his back. Trepidation jumped into his gut as he slowly turned to meet with two brown eyes glowing eerily in the dark.

Silence drenched tension gripped the meter wide space between them as Vergil stared at Vesta who stood there, unmoving, apart from the shakes that resonated through her body in short waves as if rage was taking turns with misery. Slowly she extended her hand in a questioning gesture to Vergil.

"It was all _you_ from the start? You set me up? And all this time you made me feel so low, made me believe that I was the bad one? Did you...," she exhaled, her small voice trembling deep inside despite her attempts to hide it, "...did you even plan as far as sleeping with me? Was all that a play?" she threw her hand to the side heatedly, nearly yelling at the stunned man in front of her who stood silent, covered in mud from head to toe.

A vivid flash broke the dark and a line of molten gold sliced the air, like a shooting star that came to rest graciously in her outstretched hand. Her rainy eyes slid down to the object she now held and she started to slowly back away, shaking her head.

"This..., this isn't funny anymore! So convenient...," her voice dropped down to a whisper and she let go of the dagger apace as if it was a plague, then brought her moist eyes back to Vergil, "...did you even, did you get that guy to try and carve that stupid map off my back too?" not waiting for an answer, she turned swiftly and ran off into the dark, her fast running steps echoing into the frost bitten night.

"Ouch! Verge...did you?"

Dante's loud voice cut down the mist that began to form in Vergil's mind and cloud his eyes. He still stared at the spot where the girl had disappeared, his brusque answer automatic and fractious, "Don't be an idiot! Of course I didn't! Do you honestly think it would have taken me this long?"

Clearing his throat, Vergil tore himself from the shadow of her that still remained imprinted on the widened black of his eyes, and rationally justified a behaviour he would never come to understand, mainly to himself. "She is still confused..."

"Didn't look confused to me, pissed off maybe, but not confused," Dante remained staring into the dark, his hands still on his hips as he shifted weight from one leg to the other. He sure knew when women were pissed off, in fact, in his opinion, one he knew did nothing else.

"You were confused, were you not? After your awakening?" Vergil took a few steps forward and bent down to pick up the shimmery blade. Slotting the knife absentmindedly behind his belt, he swivelled his eyes to Dante," what else would have possessed you to get yourself so recklessly consumed by the ancient leviathan halfway down the tower."

"That was called Dante-man springing into action to kick Vergil's itty-bitty ass back to the land of the mostly sane, nothing to do with confusion mate! One thing I must admit though, the Lady didn't appreciate my smell once I jumped out of that no-longer-flying whale's dead guts," Dante established thoughtfully, leaning forward to have a sniff of Vergil's less than fresh apparel.

"Hmpf," Vergil gave Dante a dubious look, then concluded, "women, if they are not confused, they are confusing. She will be fine. She just needs to burn off..."

The rest of his words never left his mouth as the burning of a bright yellow glow pricked the corner of his eye. Just as he twisted his whole body to see its source, the surge of a powerful demonic presence flooded his senses. His jaw falling open, Vergil took in the enormous ball of fire reeling through the now clearly illuminated night, closing fast on the very spot Vesta had been heading for. He so did not expect this...

_That treacherous bastard..._

"Dante...," Vergil's voice was dark and feral as he forced himself to concentrate his mind and ignore the mortifying dismay he would never admit feeling. But there was no room for pride this time. No matter how personal this had gotten, he had to shift some of the weight to his younger sibling, the one who would so eagerly do anything his older brother would ask, and do it so much better.

"Dante," Vergil's urgency had torn the younger twin's awe struck eyes from the blaze advancing through the silent forest. Dante had felt the overwhelming demonic essence too and it stirred the devil inside him with a ravenous hunger, a sensation he had not come across for a very long time.

"That's a one hell of a power-banger Verge! I'm impressed! It's almost as if I am feeling Mundus all over again, and they did this all just for you? Man, talk about jealousy," Dante nodded in admiring approval, fearlessly showing off his teeth as he looked back at Vergil who now broke into a heavy, hobbling sprint towards the burning trees.

Dante lingered his eyes on Vergil's silhouette growing smaller against the glowing yellow-orange palette in the distance, his twin's austere voice trailing behind, "the demon is not after me, brother, but after her, and I need you to...,"

"Oh, oh! This is your secret admirer, isn't it!" Dante caught up easily, his wide grin unfaltering despite his short speeding-bullet run. "And she is pissed that you have ignored her attentions and instead attended to the half-human girl," he announced happily, trotting next to Vergil, his shining eyes glued to his brother's stern profile.

"Believe me, _he_ will get my undivided attention as soon as I hold Yamato again," Vergil gave off a growl, trying to use his rage to ward off the pain that consumed him with every step. He had to grit his teeth as it wasn't working. Soon he would have to stop or collapse, whichever would come first. The demonic gems didn't work as well on his blood as they should since the power to absorb its healing essence had been long lost to him.

"So it's a _he_? Bro, you should have told him you weren't swinging that way. Or are you?" Heaving with exhilaration, Dante didn't resist the tease, having Vergil so open and responsive. Even deep amidst the heat of a battle he relished those rare moments, when the conversation didn't quickly run dry or had not revolved around a gloomily low and boring subject. Still he would not endanger anyone's life for his own humour, and he kept his sixth sense on the auras around him, knowing that Vesta was still alive and well, for now.

"I hate _swinging_ every way, it makes my head spin. Now is not the time Dante, I need you...," Vergil didn't finish, coming to a halt a few paces from a thick clutch of white pines, out of breath, propping his palm against a tree for support.

"You need me?" Dante skidded to a full stop, his eyebrows high on a face shining brighter than the intense glow rising from the close by woods.

Seeing the untamed excitement dancing in his younger twin's eyes, Vergil affirmed in his own mind that he had been wise to hold off, perhaps indefinitely, telling Dante about Vesta. And since he couldn't do it himself, letting Dante save her could only strengthen the seeming bond between them whilst loosening the possible resentment, should Dante find out about her origins.

Drawing in a deep breath, Vergil fixed his resigned eyes on Dante. "Yes, I need you..."

He never finished the in-his-eyes-humiliating admission as a deafening roar swept all sound away and an avalanche of burning trees crashed outwardly towards the ground, sweeping all that stood in its path. In the nick of time Dante grabbed Vergil and jumped above the flood of timber on fire, landing graciously, though a bit heavily on one fallen tree trunk that lay smouldering in the wake of the blaze.

"Seems that you do," Dante let go of his brother, steadying him on the slippery ash covered log by his shoulders while wearing a smug grin. "But it's only understandable. Sex and mud baths can be very draining," he made an attempt to wipe off some drying dirt from Vergil's unrecognisable coat while resisting the urge to snigger at his brother's deathly return glare.

"That is not what I meant," Vergil snapped, swatting off Dante's hand that the younger twin then started to wipe off unconcernedly on his pristine trousers. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, more so in normal circumstances...," he admitted more to himself in a mumble, then continued in an emphatic voice, "...what I meant however was that _she_ needs an assistance...," Vergil turned his head in a discrete concern to where the explosion would have originated.

The sound of an aggravated female voice led his eyes to a blackened crater not too far away in the middle of the obliterated woods, Dante's eyes following the same direction. There, amidst the creeping black smoke, Vesta was kneeling with her arms extended to a spot where a dark figure lay, thrashing to regain its bearings as if it was just recovering from a hard fall.

Visibly shaking on the outside yet keeping her tone hard and spiteful, Vesta was cursing at the man who started to pick himself up from the ground, "you spineless piece of shit, is attacking defenceless women and setting fire to everything that can't get away the only thing you can do? "

"Yep, seems you are right. She needs some assistance, her swearing really blows," whispering, Dante leaned in to the stony face of Vergil, his hand slipping to take a tentative hold of Ebony behind his flapping long red coat.

"Defenceless?" the man hissed as he swiped the back of his hand across his bleeding mouth. His face came to a full view as he removed his hand and slowly lifted his blonde head to look upon Vesta from under his long light golden lashes, snarling, "my dear, you should know...that you are anything but defenceless."

Sensing Vergil's hard inward wince though he hadn't moved an inch, Dante began to feel a mounting heap of familiar unease. All humour vanishing from his features and mind, he reached his free hand to take hold of the hilt of his second gun, the grip on both his weapons stiffening.

"Well, at least it will be more entertaining to take you down, after all I had an immense fun playing with you right under the cat's unsuspecting claws, using the very present from your beloved daddy!" the blonde rose up fully and took a few steps toward the kneeling girl, flipping the blood off his hand.

"What do you mean, present?" Vesta lowered her aching arms, remaining glued to the ground, petrified.

Encased in deep shadows, Vergil brought forth the knife from behind his waist, his pale moonstone eyes silently sliding over the delicate detail. How did he not see it. This was not a man's weapon, it belonged to a woman, and only she could use its power...

"Oh didn't you like the pretty little dagger? You thought it was mine?" the demon jeered in a silky smooth voice that had been like honey to her, now a vile poison. "You see, I left it there specially for you as a souvenir, and I know you found it, since it had awakened your devil. I should thank you, now all hell with learn of your demise, by my hands, and will be the more willing to accept my accession...," his voice trailed off into a sinister tone, out of nowhere came a slender long sword drenched in pure fire as he moved his hand from behind his back.

In a blink of an eye, he glided forward as if floating in the air, his diabolical weapon raised to slice her in half. Vesta gasped, her mouth falling ajar as her pupils reflected the white-hot inferno nearing her while her mind froze with the daunting horror of his words.

Just as the flaming blade descended in a sweeping arc to sever her head, a blood red charge whizzed through the air and knocked off the hot piece of steel from its deadly path, throwing its wielder off balance.

"Hey, jerkass! Didn't you see the fire hazard warnings? I think it's time for you to cool down, don't you?" eyes set in a death warrant glare above a wide toothy grin, Dante pointed both firearms, charged up to the fullest with his red-hot demonic power at the straightening demon who brought back his weapon into a strong vertical grip.

Two piercing, intensely blue eyes popped up from behind the white-yellow flames of the blade and strayed to the figure dressed in red, standing nearby in an arrogant stance on the charred, smoking ground.

"You! You should leave while you can for I have no quarrel with you. In fact, you should thank me for returning you the favour you have so kindly provided me," the man, dressed in a flowing dark trench that draped all the way down to his heels, said in a silky smooth, assured voice, "and please, kindly call me Aaron if you will."

Taken aback, Dante's steel hold on his weapons briefly faltered before he re-firmed his aim, fingers sliding tight behind the triggers. Licking his lips, cautiously he tested the waters, not letting his eagle eyes of the unperturbed demon. "A favour? I do no favours to anyone."

"Well of course," Aaron drawled darkly. The blonde man's hair seemed to flare like a naked fire as he started to play with his sword, sparks dancing off into the night from its sharp edge.

"Was it not you who had slain none other than the great and all mighty prince of darkness?" not waiting for an answer, the demon shrouded in black went on, his eyes set on the tip of his blade as he reached out with his finger and touched it, the finger catching fire. "By doing so you have granted me an immense favour...," his biting blues snapped up to meet Dante's narrowing eyes, "...which I intend to return by slaying none other than the mighty one's daughter..."

Dante froze solid, the heavy weight of a dread-filled anxiety staking him hard into the ground. As he stood there, poised to shoot yet unable to move, he felt pain in his fingers, unaware they were clenching so hard, the bones were beginning to crack.

Forcing himself to steady his nerves and relax his tense body, Dante finally made his lips move. "If you think you can convince me that easily, you are mistaken," he counteracted in his customarily cocky tone, yet deep inside his soul shuddered as he remembered the power he was sensing as they set to chase this mysterious demon that was bearing the same signature, the same dread inducing stench, an aura so resembling to that of Mundus.

His eyes spontaneously swivelled to the girl, was it her who bore these traits? They stood so close, he could not distinguish where it was all coming from! He had only felt it since she had awakened, a faint touch at first that didn't trigger any alarms, then a savage explosion just as the fire-demon appeared; maybe that was when she had used her own power for the first time, to deflect he demon's attack?

Confusion racing through his mind, he glanced back and forth between the desolate face of the girl and the stony, silently anticipatory yet subtle sneer of the demon in black, his fingers twitching on the power-charged triggers of his mighty guns.

But Vergil seemed to trust her, despite her obviously intentional actions that led his brother to a place where he was to supposingly reclaim his powers, or was this even true? Was Vergil unable to sense her true colours as he was so close to being human? Tongue swirling wildly inside his mouth, Dante began to grind his teeth hard. How could something so sweet and kind, so full of life, be in the least related to the vilest, most disgusting and cruellest creature that had ever crawled this universe?

His mind in disarray, Dante remained poised as slowly, steadily, he moved one outstretched arm to point a gun at Vesta while keeping the other firmly aimed at the demon.

The blonde man howled out self-satisfied laughter, and giving his sword a speedy twirl began to advance sinisterly towards the girl. Only a few paces away now, the fire started to burn viciously, causing Vesta to snap from her fear and frantically search around for something to attack with.

"I would not be too delusional to assume that you are no longer in a need of convincing?" sending a conceited glance at Dante the demon raised his weapon for the strike, a surge of molten sun's energy rushing from its hilt to swathe the blade in luminous gold.

"Keep assuming, but don't expect me to be delusional!" Dante hissed, his face drawing into a deep scowl as the time seemed to have slowed down and he swung his arm back at Aaron, pulling both triggers, again and again.

As the loud bangs echoed into the moonlit night, the demon changed his grip and twisted the hellish katana at the last moment, singeing the ends of Vesta's flying hair as she ducked down to the ground. An immense fireball slipped from the tip of the sword and hurled straight at Dante, ploughing through the shower of energy-swollen bullets as if they were nothing.

Dante let out a maddening roar as he kept firing when suddenly the time caught up again, and the sphere of pure gold shot forward like a raging inferno and knocked him far into the fallen trees. Dead silence gripped the place, soon disturbed by a priggish laughter.

"Ha! All I expect from you is to _die_...or get out of my way really, while I have my way with this little one," his honey voice dipped into venom as he snapped his eyes back to Vesta, the demonic sword in both of his hands, rapidly coating with the molten heat that burst into a new sea of flames.

Struggling to breathe as she took in the suffocating smoke, Vesta resumed her frantic search for something to use as a weapon. A stone, a stick, or anything, why was there only mud and useless smouldering ash on the ground! Her hands digging hopelessly into the dirt, the death row of the balefires of hell reflecting in her eyes again, it was so hot, so close, why wasn't _he_ there anymore to fend off the heat? Oh yes, she had pushed him way, with her hot-headed conclusions that she had never really believed in the first place. It had been all so hazy...

A dull thud severed her muddled thoughts and her hands reached to where the sound had been, fingers gripping something solid and warm. Vesta looked down, and for the first time felt familiar warmth emanating from the knife that she so wanted to hate. Had she not tried to throw it away, had it been returning to her, again and again, or was it just a dream?

_Does it matter? Now I can return this jerkass his stabbing favour!_

The dagger in her hands, she brought it above her while still kneeling, the sharp tip pointing at the towering figure of Aaron standing in front of her. That same frosted, beastly laughter filled the air again.

"My dear, I could simply point out to you that I am immune to the dagger's power but please, humour me as to what you intend to do. Perhaps if you amuse me enough, I will make your death more pleasurable, and then tell your pathetic loverboy all about it...just before I feed his body parts back to hell!"

Thrusting her arms out faster than she could blink off the stinging tears that suddenly rushed out, Vesta rammed the knife up to its hilt into his balls. The gush of warm blood over her hands, the disgusting sloshing sound, the horrible guttural grunt, it felt so good yet her heart fluttered really low. Were they all going to die, then how could it get any worse when the last thing she said to Vergil was so hateful and accusing when he wasn't guilty and she didn't hate him at all?

Hissing angrily, he pulled out the dagger from his groin, crushing her hand. "Is this supposed to stop me?" Aaron snarled mockingly, kicking her in her face, not expecting his own face to be pushed in brutally from the other side. The demon felt his neck crack, his cheek bones smash into pieces and his nose break, a spray of blood flew alongside him to land with a sickly squelch on the muddy ground.

"No, this is!" a very deep, blood-chilling voice cracked across the dark like a whip.

Spitting blood, Aaron turned his pounding head as his bones snapped back to place, his deep, murderous blues setting on Vergil who had landed gracefully on his feet between him and Vesta. Deathly rage taking his guts by storm, the demon raised his hand to his face, fingertips feeling slowly over the deep pattern of Vergil's imprinted boots.

"You will regret this later," his voice was a sharp, hoarse whisper as he started to pick himself up and his fallen sword, watching Vergil back up to Vesta, Dante emerging behind the girl, from behind a small mound of soil and scattered trees.

"The regret will be all yours," Vergil corrected, his face set into a sheet of ice.

The demon brushed himself off, a derisive smirk flashing across his face as he started to back away, his sights set hard on both twins. "Don't think this is over, half-breeds!" turning, he took off into the night.

Ensuring the presence of hell had vacated the area, Vergil eased off his strained senses and approached Vesta, offering her his outstretched hand. "Next time, stay with me," he said reproachfully while standing still, trying to suppress the throbbing pain his leg was so persistently insisting on. He found it somewhat worked by focusing on her flawless, now fully healed face as she begun to slowly turn to him from the ground.

"Vergil, what I said...," her voice ebbed into a mere whisper as her eyes sought the ground to avoid his torturous glare.

"Do not think I would be influenced by such a foolish mistake," he said decisively, retracting his hand, then his lips pursed as he added in a softer voice, "you were confused."

"Yes, I seem to be, a lot lately," she gave him a faint smile, then bit into her lower lip. "He said...," Vesta paused, abashment pushing her eyes back to the ground before they climbed up and met with his once again, "...that _he_ killed all those people, that _he_ used them to lead me to you, to insult the memory of my father, and he would kill me so that he could then reign over the fear that would be bestowed upon the demon world because he would have slain its chosen ruler," Vesta blurted out all in one breath, swallowing hard to contain her anguish.

Her face shaking in sincere bewilderment, she sought answers in Vergil's unwavering eyes, "but why would he need to kill me? I have nothing to do with this, I hate demons, I hate all the monsters, and I have no intention or desire to rule over anything but my own life," breath heavy, she waited for someone to tell her it was all a mistake, nothing more. Ironic really, not knowing anything about her origins before she had known exactly who she was, but now for the first time, when she had been exposed to the hints of her family, she wasn't sure anymore...

Boring into her glossy eyes with his, Vergil gave her the only advice he could think of. "Sometimes you cannot choose your own fate, only learn to live with it until you can change it," he said softly, extending his hand to her once more and lifted her up once she took it. He then added cryptically, "tomorrow, we will both change ours..."

"Well, isn't that all nice and dandy, but I'm afraid you will have to do _this_ one _alone_," Dante's scornful voice cut through the night like the blade of a sharp knife. "You still don't trust me do you? You knew all along, about _her...,"_ Dante threw his hand holding Ivory contemptibly at the girl, "...about everything! After all this, you still keep me in the dark, you still don't trust me? So that I can't really help...or is it not to stop you!" Dante's face drew into unnatural hardness, his loud voice dropping to an eerie low as he hit his forehead with the hilt of his gun as if a thought had just grabbed him, "did you even _plan_ to cash in on all this socialising with our worst enemies and get a piece of the throne?" he asked disbelievingly.

Nailed to the ground by Dante's harsh tone, Vergil was unable to move, unable to breathe, only the warmth of her hand let him know it wasn't just a bad dream, that it was real. He should have told Dante, why did he have such a bad judgement when it came to his own brother? Or would this happen no matter what he would have done? Did he not predict Dante would react emotionally and irrationally?

Hearing no defence, Dante began to back away, his head nodding to confirm to himself that he had been right. He should have killed her when he had the chance, but he just couldn't. Despite all this blinding hate rushing through his head at that very moment, he knew that she wasn't the enemy, his memories were...but right now he couldn't deal with the hurt they kept bringing. He had to get away.

"Well, I hope you two will be very happy. And hey, send my regards to her dead father when you see him!" with that Dante turned, his blood-red coat flapping behind as he shot off into the night.

* * *

_Oopsie, anyone enjoyed the dark drama?_

_Well, I was so sure you didn't need the 'review guide' anymore but have I been mistaken? Muhahaha! Come ooon dear readers, you can do so much better, bring me enjoyment for my twisted and mad writing or has it left you in a deep trance? Well then, to shake it up and stir you from it, I will have to put up a little challenge, a little drinking contest to deal with your shyness or other such illnesses. So I challenge you in 3 steps:_

_1) After reading this chapter, have a think and note down what you want to drink in the next 2 days!_

_2) Because whatever you drink within the next two days I will do the same but in double amounts! Yeah! Bring it on! Whatever it is (apart from anything toxic, poisonous, seriously unhealthy or overly nauseating!)_

_3) But here is the clincher. You have to tell me in a review, and let me know that you are reading and what you think of the story/this chapter! So get the taste buds going and the brain cells stirring, and get me drunk!_

_And believe me, I need it! So have fun and don't disappoint!_

_See ya,_

_Tora _


	22. I forgive you

**I forgive you...**

It was cold, the deepening night bringing nothing but more and more of the bitter, biting frost that crept its treacherous way under every bit of skin. Head bowed down low, hands stuck firmly in his pockets, Vergil fought against another cold that was spreading from deep inside him. The feeling of being abandoned suddenly biting harder than the coldest temperatures could have accomplished. His hands plunged deeper into the muddied comfort of the silk, his own warm and moist breath sliding down his skin, yet nothing staved off the stone-cold remorse that tightened around his chest like a rusty, ice encased chain.

_Now I know how it feels, brother. Just as you needed me then, I do need you now, Dante..._

His glacial blue eyes swayed to the mountain towering above the thin gray line of the horizon, sickness rising in his stomach from the grimness carved into the peak's every stone. It was a place of doom or a place of life, and he himself was the key. One very worn out, rusty key that was supposed to open a very fragile, intricately balanced door. The sight so heavy on his eyes, he had to avert them somewhere else, ending up staring higher up. The sky, yes the sky on the other hand, was a sight to behold. The stars, stretching as far as the eye could see, were brighter than ever, with its moon as a lonely shepherd lighting up the glum wilderness with its soft, pleasing, warm illumination.

_Maybe if I learned, learned to start seeing the good things..._

His eyes strayed to the side where her moonlit face shined brighter than anything else for her happy smile. Sensing his glance, her lips stretched even wider, her radiance reflecting in the pearl whiteness of her teeth as she walked with her thoughts. She would not need to go and live with the monsters ever again, the real ones or the fake, she would stay with Vergil, and he would protect her like he had done up till now; from them and from herself. After all, he killed and warded off all those terrible demons, inside and out, with his ferocious fire, one that would never dwindle away.

She knew all along that he hadn't killed all those people, that he hadn't lured her into his mansion, and he had forgiven her for her heated mistake. And she knew forgiveness didn't come easy in this world. It would all work out all right, as long as she stayed by his side. It never mattered where she came from and who her parents were, all that mattered now was where she was going and who with. Little did she know that his forgiveness stretched much further than she could ever fathom...

"I don't care what I was born like, I know who I am, and I am no monster," she mumbled quietly to herself, looking forward, the silhouettes of dark trees passing by the corners of her eyes. It smelled so much better here, the fresh scent of the bark and pine needles, mingling with a faint aroma of chocolate in the crisp cold and the scent of crystal clear water, up ahead.

"You don't know who you are, do you…," Vergil more stated than asked, his distantly sideways-turned orbs never leaving the profile of her softly lit face.

"I know who I am, I am me. The same me I have always been," Vesta answered without hesitation, the cheerfulness in her voice ringing like chimes in a gentle breeze.

He stared at her profile, wondering how it could be so easy, how she could find ways to fend off the bad things with such an ease. Was it him adding complexity and dread to everything he did while having the habit to plan it all to the finest detail? He could tell her she was a devil, he could tell her that Dante had killed her real father, that her father had murdered his mother in cold blood after raping her in front of Vergil's own six year old eyes. Yet Vesta would not run away, she would not start to hate him for his accusations, instead she would turn her hate to her own father and help him become a better person, just like she did to Vergil, even if unknowingly... Or die trying and die happy. Perhaps, some details were not worth pondering about...

_I forgive you for what you have not done, for who you happen to be..._

She turned to him and Vergil nearly flinched, thinking that she was reading his thoughts as her face was lit up like a Christmas tree; like the one he had torched as it sprung to his mind.

"There is a waterfall up ahead, do you fancy a wash?" her voice was a soft laughter that fluttered like a colourful butterfly into his stomach. Relieved that she didn't penetrate his thoughts, suddenly he felt warmer on the inside, but his face remained coated in ice, the thoughts of Dante leaving him not so considerate as to leave.

Vesta looked him up and down, then searched in his partly lifeless eyes, finding what she was looking for. "He will come back, you know. And he might not hug you again if you are all smelly and mucky," she took his hand in hers and began to pull him towards the sound of the falling water.

Feeling his light resistance, Vesta whipped her head back and tilted it playfully to the side. "Don't you want to smell all nice and fresh for him? I know you too love each other really, and he will be back," she winked at him convincingly, her eyes dancing with glittery sparks of knowledge and warmth.

"How do you know," Vergil kept his guard up, suspicion playing across his hard set features as he sulkily didn't budge from his current place. His resistance was twofold, she was making it too hard for him to let her go and hand her over to Dante, and washing to _smell all nice_ really would make things even harder, in more than one sense...

"Because he brought you back from the dead with a sloppy kiss of life, he brought you flowers and got all jealous when I was merely giving you an innocent massage, because he jumped naked into your bed..."

"_That_, is not what I meant!" he snapped, his eyes blazing before quickly falling back into their usual guarded impartiality, one he tried to affect. On the inside however they began to glow with ease and secret affection. "Tell me why you think he would come back," he clarified, staying still in curiosity, letting her keep hold of his hand.

"Oh that. Well, because he cares for you too much silly, don't you see that?" she lifted a lithe finger of her free hand and tapped him on the nose. His eyes travelled down to follow her touch as she dragged her fingertip over his cold cheek and down the chilled skin on his neck where her warmth lingered before she lifted his chin back up so that he would face her.

Her browns setting timelessly into the unmeasured depths of his blues, Vesta let go and brought her finger to her nose. "No seriously, you should wash anyway, even if he doesn't come," her nose wrinkled, sniffing the mud she had scooped up from his soiled skin.

"Hmpf, thanks for the encouragement, it was all I needed," a sarcastic scowl covered his face as he pulled his hand from her and made to turn away, yet strangely he did feel somewhat relieved. Perhaps, Dante might come back after all, the question was, would it be too late...

"You are most welcome. Now come and stop scowling," she grabbed his hand back. "It will be fun," Vesta let her teeth show again and pulled a little harder, Mercy happily following behind.

Fun? When all might be dead in less than twenty four hours? Yet again, her likeness to Dante didn't cease to amaze him. Vergil's sense of fun as far as it went was to torture and kill his enemies in the most painful way, something he wanted to keep her away from. But Dante, he knew how to have fun in the human sense. Vergil's resistance growing, he tried his best to extricate himself from this activity that would lead him to want her even more. The smell at least so far kept his desires down and even his strong sense of cleanliness couldn't win this one.

Digging his heels in, Vergil protested, "one would not describe scraping putrid dried mud off oneself in the dead of winter's night in freezing water, _a fun_."

Not knowing she was practically dragging him with his heels stuck in the ground as her strength outweighed his, Vesta started to hum, happy that he went along with it despite his clear objections. She wanted to snuggle up to him during the night but not while the stench he carried could chase even flies away.

Hearing the sound of the waterfall dangerously near, Vergil intensified his objections, "I am positive it would not be wise to wash in these conditions. Do you want me to freeze to death," he used all his might to pull her into a stop, relief rushing in to soothe his agitated nerves as she turned and let his hand go.

"You will dry in no time with that hot fire of yours," her voice chimed, her eyes gliding dreamily towards the small black pool, the droplets of the waterfall ruffling its moonlit surface in a soft dance of luminous bubbles, "isn't it beautiful?"

His eyes widening upon the sight, Vergil found himself in the grip of panic and for the first time considered actually fleeing. One last try, and then he would disappear into the night, a deserter, "I am still of the highly educated opinion that I do not require any washi..."

His words were swallowed by an unexpected forward movement and a mouthful of icy water that followed. The immense coldness wrapped around his brain so quickly, he lost a moment of awareness before his head surfaced again and the shore came to focus through his dizzy vision. She didn't! Woman or not, for whom he would endure all life's indignities, she would pay for her vile crimes against his dignity...

"I think the ladies disagree." His eyes settled on Vesta as she stood there merrily with her arms folded, next to her Mercy, jovially nodding her large white head. Was even his, or rather his mother's horse in on this? Was his mother sending him a slap on his face from her silent grave? _Mother, please! How could you?_

"How could you!" hurt painted wet on his face, Vergil called out in desperation, splashing in the water. A ring of dirt appeared around him, floating away together with pieces of tiny ice rafts to gather around the edges of the small laguna.

_What are you trying to say, mother? Do you disagree? Do you not think she would be better off with Dante, why do you push me to do what I fear the most? Every time I find a reason to live, I only end up falling deeper... _

A sudden pain shot through his heart, muscles clenching and contracting in the freezing water. Losing all feeling apart from the acute discomfort in his chest, Vergil found himself drifting down, his head disappearing into the empty blackness closing in all around him. Unable to move or even flinch, the reflection of a bleeding face floating towards him from the dark depths of the lake flickered in the glazed over surface of his open eyes.

Dark voices drifted upwards and spread around him, coating him with their velvet beckoning, all turning into one, that of a regal female, soft and drenched in heartbreaking sadness.

'_Come to me Vergil. Fall deeper, as you always do. Just let go. Let us be together...together in hell...'_

_No! It's not you, I know it's not you, you treacherous liar! No matter what you do, you will never make me believe she is in there, in that vile, despicable place, never!_

The face contorted into deep frown, the beautiful blue eyes vanished, replaced by sinister hollowness, mouth reshaping into horrid jagged maws that expanded into unnatural length as if being ripped out.

'_You did this to me! You didn't stop it and then you left me to rot at the bottom of the lake. It is because of you I am in hell!'_ the female voice hollered hatefully, turning into terrible screeching, gargled shrieks of someone drowning. Black ooze swallowed the golden hair, blood seeped out of the hollow sockets, the noise coming out of the torn out mouth hammering into his head like a never ending barrage of tearing bullets.

Thrashing like mad, Vergil kicked at the blackened face and fought his way to the surface, all the while shouting, spitting frozen water out of his mouth. "Get away from me! I will never believe you, no matter what you say! I will never be yours, ever again!"

It was no use, he started to sink again, his legs no longer responding, the freezing water chaining him with its solid steel shackles. No, he could not see her like this, not again, and as he grew weaker he felt hell knocking on the door of his mind, harder and harder. Something grabbed him, and he didn't know where it was dragging him, he just couldn't go through this so many times, when would he finally snap under all that suffocating weight? "You will never have me again!" he shouted one more time, panting, close to exhaustion.

"Ok, Ok! Hush now! I thought you could swim, when you jumped after me into that lake...I am so sorry, I shouldn't have made you do this." A soft, female voice soaked in concerned sadness pushed out the clamour pounding in his head, a touch of warmth took hold of his back and chest.

"I will never believe you, get away from me," he breathed out faintly in between the shudders brought by the terrible cold, fighting against the voice he thought was still hers, the unholy vision still swimming within his closed eyes.

"Shhh, I will never leave you, even if I can't have you again," Vesta whispered, her arms tightening around him while her heart tightened painfully inside." If that is what you want, just please, don't make me leave," she heard herself say softly, her eyes glazing over with tears as she gazed past his wet shoulders at the beautiful waterfall. Suddenly its shiny silver vale seemed to turn black, or did the moon just hide away?

Vesta held him in her arms for what seemed like an eternity, the regular rhythm of his constant shivers lulling her into a sense of calmness. Suddenly the sound of stomping hooves broke her out of her trance and she looked down at his wet, freezing, yet serene face. _I will help you find this place, that is all I can do._ _Even if you don't want me. Even if you hate me. But you still saved me... _

Lifting him slightly off the ground, she dragged him sleeping under the cover of some dry thickets and gently left him propped against the trunk of a large tree. She then gathered an armful of dry wood and placed it on a small bare flat a few paces from Vergil's feet.

Kneeling down, Vesta reached behind her jacket and pulled out the knife she had tucked behind her waste after Vergil had stolen Aaron's attention from her. It was still covered in blood, and so she first wiped it clean on a tuft of grass covered in snow, then gazed at its shiny, delicate design in silent awe. A fire dagger that would return to her no matter what? Was it real? Was it really a present from her real father?

Shaking her head to fend off her foolish sentiment, Vesta slowly lowered the blade to the pile of gathered wood. "Let's hope this works," biting into her lip, Vesta held her breath as she thrust the dagger into a small stone on the ground. A small neat ball of searing fire instantly engulfed the dead branches, warming up the nearby air with a pleasant, dry heat.

Vesta watched the bright yellow glow of the blade die down as she lifted it up from the fire, before her eyes settled in a stare on the little molten ball that devoured the wood with unmatched ferocity. The thought that she has seen and felt it before, the heat so great it could melt anything in its path, like that of the sun, one that had swallowed Vergil's mansion in only a few minutes.

"Hmm, seems you have been used unjustly, little dagger," Vesta whispered, running her finger along the carving of the sun's rays on its silver handle before placing it gingerly on the ground by her side. "Maybe I will forgive you after all," she kept her hand on its handle as she stared at the fire, feeding it more wood every so often.

"You kept it this time," an evenly deep, slightly hoarse voice interjected her thoughts and she looked away to meet with a pair of half-lidded ice-pale eyes. Vergil was sitting against the tree where she had placed him, his arms left hanging down loosely as if his strength has not yet gathered inside him.

Letting her eyes linger on his vulnerably looking visage, Vesta sank one tooth into her lower lip and spoke softly. "Yeah. I don't know, but it's growing on me. Maybe because no one has ever given me a present before, I mean, one that actually meant something." She lowered her eyes to the dagger she still held in her hand, then continued more cautiously, hesitantly, "that thing...that demon...said...you knew my father? What was he like?"

"I thought you said you didn't care," came a quiet, calm answer in a noncritical tone.

"I don't," Vesta retorted brusquely as her eyes flew up to him, then she looked away shyly. "I...I just think it might be useful to know what I should expect...from those who knew him."

Vergil couldn't help but open his eyes fully and straighten up a little despite his fatigue. He had dreaded this moment, should it ever come to it, but now, he just had to admire her strong will and composure. She had told him not so long ago how she had never met anyone who had lost it all yet managed to keep it together and not complain even once. And here she was, her identity turned upside down, her origins questioned, her life threatened simply by who she was... She was the one who she should admire. Convinced the truth would not hurt her, Vergil began to speak but then decided to keep it short and diplomatic, for his own sanity, whatever was left of it. "He...we were not on good terms."

Vesta remained silent for a moment, penetrating his tired eyes, the thought that it was not easy for Vergil to speak of her father registering in her mind. She would keep it short, just in case she would scare him off or in case she would actually find something too hard to swallow. "Who was he?" she asked softly.

"He was a full demon. The prince of darkness," Vergil answered tersely.

"Well, that would explain a lot, especially why I can see in the dark," she snorted involuntarily, quickly feigning a couch so that Vergil would not notice. Only he more looked like he did notice as he let out a throaty chuckle. Scary as it sounded, Vesta refrained from gaping at the rare event and hurriedly went on, while his mood was somewhat agreeable.

"Was he bad?" Vesta enquired, holding her breath as if she already didn't know the answer. Hadn't the demon insinuated such, or perhaps she hoped she got it all wrong?

"Yes," came an answer she was dreading to hear. Her posture sagged down, and subconsciously she let go of the silver knife.

Swallowing hard, Vesta braced herself for what she had to ask next. "Did you kill him?"

He looked her directly in her eyes and replied resolutely. "No."

It had to be true, he didn't flinch or look away, she thought, relief mapping itself in the form of a faint smile on her face. "And my mother...did you know her too?"

"No. I do not believe so. But she was a human, that I am sure of," he said softly, feeling his blood pump faster through his veins. He didn't know if it was the heat from the bonfire or the flash of old memories that brought life back to his stiffened body.

"Shame. Maybe she wasn't so bad...," Vesta let out a disappointed sigh, her smile vanishing as she leaned down tiredly and threw more wood into the flames.

"You should go to sleep, it is getting late. I will keep the fire alive," Vergil suggested, rubbing his fingers, watching colour return to them. It was still bitingly cold though despite the fire and he knew he had to stay awake or he might not wake up again, be it from the cold or from a likely attack. One thing was for sure, the night would be very long, especially without Dante.

"Just...tell me one last thing," Vesta looked up at him and tilted her head in curiosity. "When did you know...you know...about who I was? I thought you didn't believe what pyro, I mean Aaron, had said?"

"It was...when I learned your name. Vesta...it means the goddess of the underworld in roman mythology," Vergil began hesitantly, not liking where this was going. "I have heard of you when I was...visiting the said world. And more recently...I have felt you, felt your father, something I would never forget. Now go to sleep," he rushed the rest of his words, his face setting into cold hardness as he rubbed his hands forcefully and cracked his knuckles, and she knew he did so when he was about to kill. His voice dipped deeper with every word, deeper into a venomous pool, ending up in a stern finality. Vesta knew he would now answer any more.

Turning silently away from the fire, Vesta laid down on the ground with her back to Vergil. This way he could not see the turmoil in her eyes as she left them open to stare into the darkness just for a while before trying to go to sleep. After all it was true. He hated her just like he seemed to have hated her father. Perharps for a good reason, whatever it was. And even if she herself was not a monster, she would never be his again. Before, Vergil didn't know who she was, but now he probably couldn't even stand the sight of her.

Allowing fatigue make her eyes slip closed, she welcomed the void of dreams that would follow, praying that her nightmare would not return with a vengeance. And tomorrow, who knew what would happen, they could both change their fates as Vergil said, or it could mean their end whether by death or by parting. Forever...

The pleasant scent of fresh pinewood coiled softly in the dark forest, brushing past the senses of a man sitting silently against a very old tree, mercifully pushing out the stubborn, dark thoughts that crept back so unwelcomingly into the shallows of his mind. At long last, his restless gaze settled on the bright flames, entrapped by the lure of their hellish dance. The soft crackling of burning wood and the nearby falling water slowly replaced the turmoil whirling in his head, hushing it into comfortable numbness. He leaned back deeper into the tree, welcoming the sublime serenity that settled around him like some spiritual entity.

His eyes stared into the fire, the mighty ball of molten heat shrivelling, growing smaller and smaller as it licked over the last pieces of wood. The warmth would soon die down, swallowed by the freezing night's air, yet he didn't want to move despite his promise to keep the flames alive.

Instead he let himself fall to numbness, his only defence left, remaining completely motionless until the bitter cold threatened to crawl under his nearly blue skin, yet the threat went unanswered, unnoticed. It must have been at least an hour before his eyes slowly shifted to the side, unwilling to move from the steadily dying fire. But he felt the distant footsteps vibrate through the hard ground, heard the rustling of the frozen leaves, recognised the presence approaching him, a presence had not expected and he felt a jolt in his heart.

His peace settled in even deeper, and with a contentment he had never felt before he straightened up his posture, blood flowing again into his stiff body, face gaining more colour than that of a piece of ice. A light passed through his steely eyes that settled back onto the nearly extinguished flames. It was never a losing battle, the flames were running out of power, but the fuel could be always replenished, it would never run out, not when there was at least a sliver of hope.

In the moment of silence that ensued, his sharp, trained senses picked up the deep exhale of breath that created a frozen cloud in the cold winter's night. A second later a hand appeared and threw more firewood onto the nearly dead flames. The fire erupted into a bright new ball of molten lava, the satiated flames moaning exquisitely as they danced their hellish dance and spilled their warmth into the nearby space.

Not a single flinch or twitch of a single muscle in acknowledgement of the welcomed intrusion, the man dressed in a large, and much cleaner blue trench coat let his lip curl up in a gesture of a small happy smile. A blur of red moved across his line of glazed vision and remained standing in front of him, if slightly to the side, eyes as bright and blue as a clear sky silently boring into his own.

Staying still to soak in the warm moments of what appeared like minutes of comfortable silence, the tall man smiled faintly and bitterly, finally addressing his brother in a regretful, silent whisper that spoke of a coming apology.

"Vergil…"

A pair of pale blues rose to meet their slightly brighter mirror, and they could see the remorse break through the wall of pride and float to their surface. Now, he just needed to hear the words, to hear the familiar voice, to be sure that his senses were not simply deluding him, that Dante was really back...

"...are you just going to let her go cold? Come on bro, if you are not going to warm her up then I will."

His lips twitching to suppress a disbelieving laughter, Vergil lightly shook his head as he looked away, at the sleeping girl. Yes, Dante was back, the whole package with all the annoying trimmings. How incorrigible. He should have known apologies were not in Dante's usual repertoire, nor did Vergil need one. Dante came back and that was enough for him. From the rustling of clothes, scraping on the ground, and the sudden waft of strawberries, Vergil knew Dante sat next to him and the night didn't seem so daunting anymore.

"I didn't mean what I said," Dante's sudden words made Vergil whip back his head in a start. "I know you would never want to go back to that place and what I said...," Dante's voice wavered ever so slightly as he struggled to say the words that were supposed to heal the hurt he had caused to his older brother. This was the first time he had said anything he truly came to regret. "...well, even if had to let another 'Mundus' reopen the old wounds, I would be damned not to help you," falling silent, Dante turned his gaze to the fire and took a short time to breathe, before he finished with a deep sigh, "it was just...the wrong surprise at the wrong time."

Vergil acknowledged Dante's apology with a curt nod and a secret glint of pride in his eyes. Dante had grown up, if only for this very moment, a moment that would give Vergil his life back; free from hell and closer to his family than ever. He would redeem his father's mistake that had proven so fatal. He would redeem it by staying by his family. Vergil's path would lead to life and salvation by sharing the burden that he should have never tried to carry by himself.

Knowing from the returned silence that forgiveness was given and perhaps never needed, the twin in red exhaled forcibly in relief and stole a glance towards Vesta. "I see now what you meant bro, that they will want her head for who she is," Dante admitted in a hushed voice, nodding towards her sleeping form. "The new fatass, hardly fitting on the throne, will be scared when the news of a true descendant from the royal family hits home. Or it seems that it already did from their sudden eagerness to kill her."

"Indeed. Her accession would be performed without question, if she so wished of course, following a tradition thousands of years old," Vergil said sternly, his jaw clenching in remembrance of his extensive studies of the demonic customs when his young ambitions and hard lifestyle had so ruthlessly blackened his soul.

"Does she?" Dante rose an eyebrow in a questionable question.

Vergil looked him hard in the eye and then answered. "No. She has no such desire. To be curiously honest, I am still baffled as to her resistance to even acknowledge the existence of demons. Even if she has begun to believe, she wants to banish the monsters from her life, not to go live with them."

"And they still want to obliterate her lovely ass?" Ridicule mingled with anger registered in Dante's passionate eyes that mimicked his voice.

"Yes Dante," Vergil rolled his eyes, then lowered his voice, "the threat will always remain as long as she is alive, as absurd as it sounds, even the mightiest fear the power of a strictly respected tradition, and her power has already shown itself as great," Vergil dipped his sight to the dagger laying by the fire.

"Man! That really blows. But why now, why didn't they try to get rid of her before?" Dante nearly whispered, side-glancing the girl to ensure that she was still sleeping.

"No one knew...apart from me. Mundus...boasted, when he thought he had me under his control, about his triumph, his insurance policy that he could call upon when the time was right...to corrupt her and use her against the spawn of Sparda, as an equal match. He was so sure of his plan, he even named her after the goddess of the underworld, and he told _me_," Vergil stiffly peeled himself off the ground and bent down to pick up the demonic knife, his hands shivering with cold. Somehow he just couldn't get himself to warm up anymore.

"Only I have blown away his plans to pieces...literally and prematurely," Dante added pensively, filling in on Vergil's story.

"Yes. She was well hidden amongst humans, with her devil dormant, no one could ever tell who she was, until now. As she has awakened, all hell learned about her existence," Vergil slid the culprit devil arm behind his belt and went to gingerly sit back next to Dante, keeping his injured leg straight as he did so.

"And she grew up to hate evil and fight it with merriment?" Dante proclaimed in a sarcastic chuckle, picturing Mundus' face as he screamed in horror, banging in vain at the rotting walls of his grave. The younger twin shook his head and turned to lock his gaze with Vergil. "If you are right, if this is true, then I am willing to give her a chance, but if she was to betray us...of which I have plenty of experience...," he paused, giving Vergil a doubting glum look, "weren't you the one drilling into me the necessity of _not_ trusting?"

The nearly empty, distant gaze of his older brother began to set in a thicker ice and gave no answer.

"I mean, don't get me wrong and I am not here to question your judgement or doubt your motives, but wouldn't it be more sensible if we finished this by ourselves? Are you willing to take the chance, when your own life is in the stakes, and from what you said, the human existence?" Dante questioned, his tone mild yet stressing.

Slowly, the ice stirred, and Vergil's narrow line of lips moved, "if you are right, is it not said to keep your enemies even closer? Then trust me when I tell you, I need her close...," his voice dipped cryptic deep, nearly drowning in darkness.

At that point Dante knew he should draw the conversation to a close, Vergil looked so tired, so drained of everything that still made him living, only there was still something he just had to do. Daughter of Mundus or not, Vergil did need her, Dante could see it clearly, so dammit, why didn't Vergil know that pure sexual overdrive without the casual niceties with thrown-in gestures of affection weren't going to keep the girl at his side? Or did it, in Vesta's case?

"If that's the case, what are you doing snuggling up to me you prick, why aren't you warming her up instead...and yourself? I mean, I love you and all, but I ain't gonna hug you when I could be flipping icicles off your nose," Dante made a face and leaned away from Vergil to make his point.

"Go on, go to sleep, I will keep the fire going, for all of us," Dante managed to keep his face straight despite the calling to put on his widest grin ever as Vergil started to actually get up and head towards Vesta. The smirk inside him growing, Dante would have never even dreamed of the day, or rather a night, when he would fall witness to Vergil going to snuggle up to a woman...

Only, instead of doing just that, Vergil took the coat off his own freezing body and draped it over her sleeping form, then lay down next to her and folding his bare arms under his head, gazed at the stars.

Shaking his head with a snort, Dante resigned himself to never seeing Vergil change. After all, all that erratic behaviour and chronic merriness earlier, must have been caused by the stress and who knew what else hell did to him. Underneath it all though, Vergil was still his older brother, cold and reserved, yet brimming with honour and respect, and that would never change. Just as well, perhaps he liked him better that way, when he knew what to expect...as long as he was allowed to be there to expect it...and he had a feeling that one thing had definitely changed.

Outline of a content smile on his lips, Dante sunk comfortably against the tree, his arms stretching to fold underneath his head. His eyes, sparkling with optimism, turned to the dark skies dotted with tiny lights that still managed to shine over the vast darkness. Just like their lives, those little lights scattered over the space of their dark existence, were all that was needed to keep going.

He didn't know how long he had been staring at the painted heavens to accept the way things were, but when he rolled his eyes casually to the side, it was then he knew that he may have been wrong.

His twin's arm firmly draped over the lithe form of the daughter of his worst enemy, their bodies moulded together as one, chests rising and falling steadily and in unison, the shivers of cold that seemed to have melted into an aura of calm...

And it wasn't hilarity or a rare opportunity of mockery that struck Dante's mind and left his mouth open at that very moment, it was a genuine, unadulterated, and pleasant, yet a little scary surprise.

Vergil _had_ changed, _she_ had changed him...

* * *

_Back together, awwww. Did you like their struggles and interactions? And did anyone actually notice the resemblance (and the differences) to chapter 1? Do you even remember still? Well, if not, check it out!_

_Thank you so much for your lovely comments, every one counts and I coat it in sweet, sweet chocolate! Oh I love chocolate. :D What do you say? You love chocolate too? Well, here is another 'review guide' for you then, remember to indulge!_

_1) Get your favourite chocolate, the flakier the better, before you hit the Review button (cause if you don't, I will snatch it and eat it! Mwahahaha!)_

_2) Now open the wrapping above your device and take in the sweet scent of chocolate while closing your eyes. Imagine Vergil leaning towards you... (if you are a girl or...well whatever fills your boots) and take a bite. Keep eating, eyes closed, you are allowed to make sounds..._

_3) When finished open your eyes and lick your finger. Then dip it into the keyboard to pick up the flakes, one by one..._

_Holy...darn. Ehem, Ok, better do this in private or end up red-faced on Youtube. Don't say I didn't warn you!_

_See ya,_

_Tora_


	23. One step closer to hell

**One step closer to hell**

The first rays of daylight trickled through the silvery needles of the sleeping trees, and crept silently over the snowy cushion covering the crisp ground. Tiny sparkles danced across the frozen surface, grew and gained in strength as they moved on, reaching two still figures that were lying down near an extinguished fire, contently huddled in a tight embrace. A nose, straight and aristocratic, wrinkled as the morning sun spilled over a serene face, and a heavy sneeze resounded through the silence, jolting a consciousness out of a heavy sleep.

Swatting the unwelcomed and pesky brightness with a lowly growl, Vergil let his eyes flop open and grudgingly brought his mind out of the comfortable numbness. His senses coming to life again, he felt his strength replenished and his leg close to healed, together with a nice warmness that was pressing into the rear half of his body. A warmness that shouldn't be there...

A frown of annoyance settled on his face as he had obviously forgotten how women tended to crave the arms of a man, especially her, with her eagerness for safety and 'love'; such a misguided creature if she thought he could provide either. Why did he have to lie down next to her in the first place when he planned to get her closer to Dante, especially now that his younger brother had accepted her, or at least was willing to tolerate her?

Still so curious, how did the girl manage to move during the night without him noticing, had he been really that tired and unwell? Vergil lifted his head slightly, and painfully, his body so stiff from lying on the hard cold ground. He noticed that his own coat had been thrown over him, together with a heavy arm that kept it firmly in place. Annoyed that she thought he was in a more need of the warm garment then her, Vergil injected a good dose of grumpiness into his voice as he threw back over his shoulder, "you should know, I gave you my coat for a reason and I do not enjoy my rare generosity being so lightly rejected."

The only answer came in the shape of a hot regular breath sneaking past Vergil's neck and a slight twitch of the arm he now felt sinking heavily into his ribs. The girl really did gain a lot of strength, and weight, Vergil pondered irritably as it made him feel weaker since with his dormant, stiff muscles he had the difficulty even shoving the said arm off of him and could barely move. He needed to stretch and the sooner the better, before she could get any ego shattering ideas; especially in front of his opportunist brother.

Adding more emphasis and a hurt undertone, he gave it another shot, yanking the blue trench with his cold fingers from his body and from underneath the increasingly heavy arm, "was the silk not warm enough for you? Did you not find it to your liking?"

The arm draped over him slid further down, the sweaty heat seeping from the hand and loosely hang fingers now tingling dangerously close to his groin. The small shiver already reached his stomach before he could reprimand himself for the subconscious urge to pull the hand closer. This really wasn't the time...

A muffled, sultry mumbling surfaced from behind the crook of Vergil's neck, "oh, yeah, me liking, liking very much..."

Vergil's eyes shot into an instant wideness, his pride trained defences reeling off into an offensive. Using all his strength he let his joints creak painfully and managed to push off the offending arm. Vergil turned onto his back, his eyes blazing mini Yamatos at the closed silver-lashed lids that were skittering in a blissful ignorance barely an inch in front of his face.

"Dante!" the word launched from the depths of Vergil's throat and was shot like a harpoon at the red whale that had tried to smother him close with its red clad flipper. A perverted flipper...

"Yes, my little cutie? Whassup...you want some more milk?" Dante mumbled and clicked his tongue in his sleep, content expression painted on his face as he wrapped both arms around Vergil again and pulled him closer into a tight embrace.

"What I want is for you to get off!" Vergil brought his face close enough to shout straight in Dante's ear, and freeing one arm, elbowed Dante hard into his glowing, perfectly smooth forehead.

"Aaaahhh...ok, ok, be right up pussy...just don't scratch me," Dante rubbed the swelling red bump on his forehead with his eyes closed, then nuzzled his nose into Vergil's hair, resuming his bear-tight hugging. "Just one more cuddle? You're so soft," he purred pleadingly.

"I'll do more than scratching if you don't detach yourself from me this very instance," Vergil's voice was the embodiment of hell as he readied his one free hand for strangulation. His eyes were still nearly popping out of their sockets but his rage subsided somewhat when Dante finally came to, and retracted his face from Vergil's messed up hair.

A set of bewildered, dopey eyes stared at the older twin. "You are not my pussy," Dante said apropos.

"I'd rather pray so," Vergil let his eyes roll and deemed it appropriate to enlighten Dante further in his signature monotone voice, "now that we are done with the apt observations, can you please tell your hand to stop stroking whatever it still thinks it is stroking and get off of me." He let his eyes rest on Dante in a hard glare of death. Knowing that excited look that took over Dante's sleepy face, Vergil added brusquely before Dante's mouth had the chance to open. "And no, I do not want to know about your 'pussy'."

Dante's face fell and he retracted his arms from Vergil, grumbling quietly, "you don't know what you're missing." A secret, devious smile lit up inside him as he had realised what he must have been doing in his sleep. It took a lot of will not to let his amusement show, but he knew better than to tease his brother unnecessarily, no matter how tempting Vergil's easily switched moods were right now...they were brought upon him by hell, and Dante would leave it alone till Vergil had Yamato back...and would be, though regrettably, less volatile. But right now, the frequent and extreme changes and his unpredictability were quite honestly scary.

"I know exactly what I am missing, and it is right over...," Vergil snapped angrily with an impatient undertone as he turned his head to the sunlit mountain yet as his eyes fell on the spot where Vesta should have been sleeping, his words trailed into nothing but a cold breath of air. It was empty. Suddenly all the strength that he thought he had gained, dwindled into a numb pain inside him.

"You know. Kittens really are a great stress reliever, you should try it sometimes," a toned down grin danced on Dante's face as he propped himself up on one elbow. His grin faltered into a stern line of a deep worry when he felt the sudden wave of silent panic wash over Vergil's inherent reserve and irritation.

"Dante!" the older twin jumped up and returned a biting gaze to his younger brother as he hissed his name. "Right now, _she_ is my stress reliever, _she_ is my strength, and _she_ is missing!" his eyes darkened dangerously and Dante could swear he saw Vergil's entire body tremor if only for a split second.

"Are you sure? Is that all she is to you Verge?" the twin in red got up slowly and tilted his head in cautious disbelief as that was not what he had seen. But then Vergil would never admit anything else but the practical side of things, the safe and the simple side, the blunt side, no matter how he felt. Only his actions could give him away. Still it disturbed Dante a little, that even Vergil could steep so low and would have been so insensitive as to use her as a shield, even against the tenacious infernality of hell. No, there had to be more, he had seen it in Vergil's eyes, and he would pull it out of him, one pain at a time, if he had to.

"She is nothing to me if she is not here now is she! Why did you let her leave?" Vergil's voice was nothing but a cold ash from a dying fire as he stood there, lightly trembling, his whole poise sunken and scarily unnatural.

"Me? May I remind you, you were the one so adamant to keep her close despite what she is? You had her in your arms and you let her go," Dante scolded mildly in his attempt to get Vergil focused in the right direction. If she really did calm him down and keep his senses safe from all the hells in the world, like Dante's little kitten could do for him in times of pain, would it not have been a lot easier for Vergil if he had admitted his feelings to her openly? Dante knew she would have stayed, if only Vergil let her know...how he so obviously felt.

"I did no such thing!" Vergil snapped sharply and his palms balled into tight fists as he shot his hardening eyes to Dante, the younger twin nearly wincing at the thought he had done the wrong thing. Dante's fears drained the colour out of him as he watched a dark shadow pass through Vergil's eyes before they looked away again.

His older brother's bleeding fingers rolled open, his voice ghostly faint and low as he repeated, "I did no such thing... I didn't have her in my arms." _As I should have. As I should have done a lot of things. Then she would still be here..._ Vergil's mind finished his daunting thoughts. He could not do this, he could never be too close to anyone, not to his own mother or a brother, or even to a lover, he was not safe for anyone, always needing to escape back into isolation and to the dark, this was who he was. And the walls were crumbling, they would always crumble and fall, no matter how strong he was, no matter what...just like now.

_You will see her again, see her very soon. She needs to say her goodbyes to you, just as you do to her. Go now, take the final step, go and see her in hell..._

The precipice opening, pitch black tendrils reaching for his feet, the walls folding down as the darkness born voices penetrated and crept into the crevices of his mind. Slowly his cold, bleeding fingers reached behind his waist and pulled out the silver knife. Eyes as dead and black as their mother's gravestone turned to face Dante. He would not shout at them, he would not dispute their lies that they once again tried to drown him in, he knew he was right, their influence was soon to be silenced. Forever. His hand, steady and firm, lifted the dagger.

_Shit! _Dante shook from head to toe, as a horribly cold shiver slid down his spine. He had seen that look before, the one that said Vergil was about the do something too stupid, like jump into the belly of a hunter demon, or jump off an infinite cliff into hell, or run Dante through with a his own sword. Or himself... Was this what it was like when hell came knocking on one's head, was this happening right now?

"Maybe you tried to choke her in your sleep, like you tend to do? And she just went for some fresh air?" Dante half jested, half nearly cried inside. A numbing dread entered his body, and he stood frozen, for the first time a fear of the unknown making him unsure of what to do.

"I will show you where she is, once and for all, I will show you myself...," his voice drenched in venom and deeply adamant, Vergil's hand moved to the top of his forehead and lingered there as if he was pressing against the pressure in his head, then his hand resumed in a resolute movement and raked through his hair, the other turning the dagger to point at his own heart. He would go there himself, as a free man, as the son of Sparda, not as an obedient dog on a leash that they would subjugate for their atrocious deeds and whims, and he would show them, show them that his mother wasn't in hell, that he didn't send her there...

"Maybe she heard us last night, and now, she is just sulking somewhere...or killing Aaron?" Dante blurted out desperately, his widening eyes pinned to the shiny tip of the knife that so dangerously hovered right in front of Vergil's beating organ.

"Either way, she'll be back, she will be back _very soon_," urgency spilling into every word, Dante grabbed the silver hilt of the dagger just as Vergil's hand started to push it into the fabric of his clothing.

Panic stricken blue eyes peering into a glaze that had blanketed his older mirror, Dante fought against the resisting pull from his brother while sifting through the turmoil in his head. Should he take the knife from Vergil, done so easily in Vergil's poor condition, but what if this would allow hell to take over his brother's mind? Should he rather let him die, with his pride and dignity, intact and whole, die as a free man or devil, something Dante could understand. But if he could only delay the inevitable, delay it just enough for them to get to the mountain where Vergil would be safe, and himself again. How much time did he have?

"Vergil, look at me!" Dante yelled, the corners of his eyes threatening to bathe in salty water, as he struggled against Vergil's frightening resolve, struggled to understand. What could he not do, that the daughter of Mundus could? Was he not the family, so why was he not able to help?

Gritting his teeth, anger covered up the frustration and hurt stirring inside him, and Dante brought his free hand to Vergil's cold chin, pulling sharply. "Look at me! You don't have to do this! I am here! I have always been here, you dumb dimwit!"

The glaze in his brother's eyes relented slightly as if the mind was breaking into the light again and a prick of fear pierced through Dante's gut as the slightest thought of hope dared to graze his mind. Was it working? Then his heart jumped out of his ribcage as he heard the words that followed, spoken so frighteningly calmly while the eyes staring at him so intently were relaying their goodbyes, "promise me. Don't let her go to hell. I should have never...just don't make the same mistake."

Dante felt the jerk of the hilt that rushed the blade at Vergil's chest and he yanked it back, his voice firm yet shaking in a muffled yell as he ground his teeth together to fight off the utter panic that finally pushed the unwanted tear out of his eye, "No! There is time! We can get through this! I can help you, just don't let go! Don't do this!"

"Promise me. Promise, you will take care of her, and you both stay in the human world," Vergil said with that annoying, stubborn hard calmness as if he wasn't hearing Dante, as if there was nothing that Dante could do. Accepting this however was not Dante's forte. There was always something to do, he would fight for time, he would fight for his dreadfully proud brother, for his only family, and only once hell truly took over Vergil's mind, then he would kill Vergil himself if he had to.

Sliding his hand firmly over Vergil's fingers so that his twin would not get the chance to stab himself, Dante took a strong grip of the sharp edge. Not once wincing as the blade sliced through his palm, Dante yanked the knife out of Vergil's hand and let it fall onto the ground. "You can do that yourself you fool, cause I am not letting you go," the brother in red clasped his hands behind his twin tightly, entrapping Vergil's arms in a solid, imprisoning embrace.

The pretext calmness snapped into raving rage and blind fear of Dante's seeming incomprehension, and Vergil shouted out, his voice desperate and dark. "Let go! You have to let me go!"

"No." A curt and painful resolution left Dante's mouth. He pressed himself harder against Vergil's tremulous body, feeling Vergil's heaving breath trickle down his neck and mingle with his own trailing tear as he held his thrashing twin. Dante closed his reddened eyes, letting the gathered moisture spill out. He didn't care about the unmanly tears. He didn't know for how long he could take this, for how long he could hold on, or what he should do.

Standing on the edge of hell, the coiling darkness began to devour Vergil's mind, cell by cell, eating away at the few precious memories, at his very soul. The agony raked through him like searing hot coal rolling over raw nerves, just one step forward relented the pain, it would be all over if he just let himself fall over the edge. But giving up to ease a pain was never his forte, as long as the pain still made him feel alive.

Resenting, fighting, he drew his foot back testily and felt the torment rip through his head. Perhaps he could still die, from sheer agony, rather than let them erase and corrupt his mind, and turn him into a shadow of a mindless ghost. It would take a lot of pain to finish him off, he had so much of it, but he had to try. Vergil closed his eyes and expecting the worst, outstretched his arms, stepping backwards from the precipice, letting the dark noise screech in raving rage and tear at every single nerve in his brain. This was another way, to end this, the way he wanted, the only way he could ever allow...

"Vergil!" squeezing so hard Dante didn't feel the pain on his shoulder, the bruises caused by Vergil banging his head against him ferociously, unbeknownst to him as he took in the full assault of hell's insane fury. Dante started to tremble, feeling Vergil shake so much that it seemed only his hold had kept his brother's body pieced together. Dante pulled away ever so slightly to look into Vergil's face, to see his skin deathly pale and his eyes closed so tight they could almost bleed. Vergil wasn't going to last much longer, growing limper in Dante's arms by the second, he had to do something, he had to do something now.

Numbing fear and maddening panic taking hold of him, Dante did the one thing he thought could work the most, the one thing Vergil could never stand, the one thing that seemed to have pulled Vergil from the dead before, the one he knew had worked with Vesta. He now resented the thought but he had nothing to lose.

Taking in a deep breath, Dante unclasped his arms from around Vergil and instead quickly grabbed his shoulders before Vergil could slump down. Letting out a shallow sigh, Dante looked one last time at Vergil's face that started to gain a greenish tone and with a force of a hungry kitten planted a full-on-lips kiss on Vergil.

Dante didn't know if it would work but from what he could surmise, he had seen how Vesta's close touch had been erasing Vergil's pain. Closeness, a form of human compassion, a touch of a human being, something one with the wrath of hell on their heels would get a rare benefit of, would never have a chance to come even close to feeling. It would take a very special person to get close to someone like Vergil, especially after his grisly departure from hell and his dubious recovery. Ironic, that a daughter of Mundus, a daughter of the worst of them, would be that one person, to see past all the flaws that demons pried upon, past all the evil that swarmed around Vergil like moths around a bright light, evil that had been brought upon him by her own father.

If Vergil didn't make it, Dante knew now that he would take care of her, he would make sure that she never had to experience the same fate, and nor would he. Only she was far better suited for Vergil, the human in her would feed Vergil's starving humanity and the devil in her would satisfy and tame the devil in him. Dante didn't need that, he preferred the gentler, the more fragile side of a woman, the one he could rescue over and over, and then bask in her gratuity.

If only his touch, his brotherly closeness would kick hell in its ugly butt, then Dante could tease Vergil about the girl he had gained so unconventionally for eternity, not to mourn him under fake smiles every passing moment.

"Come back, Vergil!" he shook his heavily convulsing brother by his shoulders. "Come on Vergil, I am kissing you here!" Dante pressed his rapidly drying lips against the pale blue ones in front of him again and again.

"Slap the living daylights out of me!" he licked and bit hard into Vergil's thin lips, feeling him grow limper and limper. "Kick me in my fucking balls, you bloody bastard!" he shook his twin by the shoulders and slapped him hard, but there seemed to be no response movement, Vergil's slack head falling to press heavily into the crook of Dante's neck.

"I promise Verge, I promise," Dante's voice was drenched in desolation as he pulled his lifeless twin against him, his hand gently rubbing Vergil's back, then moving into his sweaty hair. The scent of fresh pines mixed in with dark bitter chocolate and strawberries as they stood there unmoving, amidst the morning rays flooding through the respectful, silent trees. They were mourning, like he would have to, again. Could he take it yet again? It seemed like several long minutes before Dante moved a muscle, he thought he had heard a soft step.

"You guys! You always get up to no good as soon as I look away," a third pair of arms snaked around the twins together with a very cheery feminine voice. "See, I told you he would come back," the brunette patted Vergil on his back, nearly causing Dante to tipple over as she close to doubled Vergil's weight.

"Vesta," Dante breathed out in disbelief as his deep red and soaking eyes looked up at her.

"I can join in, right? Or family business?" her bright voice sang a sad tune into Dante's ears and he was about to shake his head when without waiting she squeezed them both and laid her cheek on Vergil's back. You are too late, he wanted to say, I couldn't save him, he wanted to shout, but nothing came out as he thought he was only imagining the little movement down on his collarbone. It was a slight cold dampness, a small moving wet trail on his heated skin. It was Vergil's nose, and Dante forgot to breathe.

"Get off. The both of you," a faint, subdued deep voice made its way from under Dante's shoulder.

To the contrary, no one moved. Neither of them could, apart from Vesta who simply didn't want to. She had woken up in Vergil's warm arms and she knew then that he would be hers again. He must have been just tired the night before, delirious from the terrible cold. So she wouldn't let go, at least not until Vergil would tell het to go himself. She may not have been family but were not hugs for friends too? And boy, did she need one after everything that had happened.

"Where were you," came tiredly from Vergil's lips as he dragged them in a sloppy trail against Dante's neck in an attempt to lift his head. The words stroke a pang of hurt and misery into Dante's heart as he felt Vergil come to life against him yet he knew it was all because of Vesta. She was the one who had brought Vergil back, Dante was sure, sure that despite all his efforts he didn't do a thing.

"I needed a wash, and since you already had one, I didn't think you'd want to join me," Vesta said playfully, her body still tightly pressed against Vergil. She shook and proclaimed, "it was so cold, thanks for letting me have your coat but I don't need it now, it is much warmer and clearer this morning."

"Yes, much _clearer_ now, we must go to the mountain," Vergil mumbled groggily, pulling away from Dante. Shattered and tired mentally, Dante brought up his hand to rub his soar head and to wipe off his drying tears but stilled when Vergil caught his arm.

The look that Vergil gave him at that very moment told him everything. It carried a conveyance of gratitude that his older brother had never expressed before, an acknowledgement that Dante had saved his life and a promise that Vergil would never turn away from his little brother again. Just one look and it brought an eternal warmness and peace into Dante's heart, touching the core of his soul.

"I can make it now, we have to go," Vergil said confidently but as soon as he let go of Dante he staggered heavily under Vesta's weight.

"Are you all right?" Vesta called out, surprised at the way he buckled under her. She instantly detached herself from Vergil and stole a glance at the red clad twin. The worry etched under Dante's otherwise heavily beaming countenance confirmed her fears. And she knew then, not needing the glance at the tossed away dagger, Vergil tried to kill himself again and she wasn't there to stop it. Heat flushed her face and silent thanks that she knew were not hers to give were secretly sent to Dante.

"You are in no condition to be saving the world, let alone yourself," Dante pointed out, grabbing Vergil's underarm inconspicuously to prevent him from falling down without risking too much notice.

"I need to finish this," Vergil hissed gruffly, pulling back his arm from Dante. "It is getting all rather irritating and I've had enough," he snarled angrily, balling his fists.

"You need to sit down and rest first at least. _Hell_ knows what you've been through," the younger twin protested.

"No," Vergil said sharply but then his eyes travelled to Vesta, "however, I wouldn't say no to impaling and eating something."

Seeing the hungry, predatory look in those deep blue pools, Vesta nearly gulped and subconsciously shook her head, the sandwiches that were still in her rucksack never entering her mind. This really wasn't the time? No matter how much she felt she needed to...

"I need meat. I need red meat," Vergil crouched unsteadily to pick up the nine inch hunting knife and his eyes flipped up to level on Mercy as she calmly grazed a few paces in front of him. The mare shook her head vehemently and trotted off with a disgruntled snort. "Venison," Vergil clarified to the horse with an eye roll and a sniffle before turning back to Dante. "Then I will be good to go," he straightened himself back up with a crack in his knees, and lifted the dagger from the ground, earning a wary look from Dante.

"Hey, I saw a small herd hanging about by the waterfall when I was washing there earlier," Vesta exclaimed happily and stepped closer to Vergil, handing him his coat that she had scooped up from the ground. She then pointed at the demonic knife in Vergil's hands. "You want a barbequed one? I thought you preferred it raw," remembering how picky Vergil had been with his dinner at the mansion, she raised her eyebrow questioningly and a white row of teeth showed in her mouth to suggest she wasn't trying to be pushy or irritably clever.

Vergil lifted his own eyebrow as he took back the trench and gave the dagger a fleeting inspection before looking back at her. Were the female species always this observant and attentive to detail? After a moment's pause of surprised appreciation his lips morphed into a pout, "Hmpf, you have a point. Perhaps I should choose a weapon that does not overcook its meal." He slipped into the clean blue silk and outstretched his hand to Dante who had watched their conversation with a satisfied glint in his eye. "Dante, give me your sword," Vergil demanded.

Hesitantly, Dante unhooked Rebellion from his back and swung it to the ground. "Verge, really now, this one is way too big for you," he twirled the massive broadsword in one hand like it weighed nothing. Somehow giving Vergil the biggest weapon he had, when Vergil had just tried to commit his own version of hara-kiri to escape from hell wasn't sitting too well with him.

"Why don't ya entertain the present lady, and leave the hunting of the difficult shy ones to me?" Dante winked at Vergil suggestively, jabbing his thumb at his red clad torso with a Cheshire cat grin. Dante had seen the effect she had on his older twin and he hoped that keeping those two together would turn the impossible into a miracle and pull Vergil from the darkness for good, without any more near misses in the meantime.

"Oh dear brother, the day I cannot lift your petty weapon will never come. Although wielding such a clumsy instrument requires no skill, hunting deer demands great finesse and stealth, and might I point out that you possess neither," Vergil winked back and tucked the dagger behind his belt, sending a whistle to the mare. "So why don't you entertain the lady who _doesn't_ run away from your boorishness, and leave the fine hunting to me," he snatched Rebellion from Dante's hand and in one smooth move swung up onto Mercy as the horse came to him trotting nearly soundlessly, apparently trusting again.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kill to attend to," Vergil's muscles gave a painful moan as he lifted up his brother's sword in one hand but he didn't let it show, instead sending a trained glare of hardness to Dante as he showed his sarcasm was still very much unaffected, "do try to be civil in the meantime. We would not want you to lose your head in the said lady's hands, now would we." Vergil put on a devious smirk, knowing Dante would do quite the opposite to what he had implied. Whilst the said lady took to stifling a laugh, Vergil readied his boots to nudge the mare into movement.

Shaking his head in amused disbelief at Vergil's stubbornness, Dante halted his brother by placing his hand on Vergil's thigh. "Verge," Dante looked away, and clicking his tongue, ran it around his lips. He could tell very well that Vergil could feel the strain when lifting his oversized sword, and he knew that his older brother was becoming nearly human no matter how much he tried to hide it. "Now that we were talking, you know...honestly, there is something I started to break my brain on."

The twin in blue stiffened ever so slightly as he didn't like the sound of that tone. His lips drawn into a thin line to camouflage his emotions, Vergil kept his eyes on the path ahead while he nudged Dante warily, "go on."

With a snort, Dante let his hands rest on his narrow hips and let out a light-hearted chuckle, "How the hell did you manage to light up your finger without any powers?"

Stunned by the unexpected triviality of the question Vergil nearly broke into a mad laughter but managed to hold it in, instead giving Dante a teasing look of innocence only a devil could pull off. "Oh why Dante, the same way I have always done."

Letting a smirk play across his face Dante dipped his head low while swiping at his nose, then looked up at Vergil dismissively. "Come on bro, you're really telling me it's some kind of a magic?"

"You really want to know?" a white eyebrow shot up on Vergil's face while he automatically used one finger to steady Mercy who wanted to get on with the hunting.

"In fact I do," Dante showed his teeth as he leaned up to Vergil, beaming. He had envied Vergil his unusual abilities since they were kids, and had never figured out how his twin had done it while Vergil had teased him that it had been by magic. However Dante had always been under the opinion that their powers should have been equal and in his sulking moments when he failed to light up his own thumb, or any finger for that matter, Dante had always suspected a foul play. He would have given anything to find out or catch Vergil cheating.

"How much?" a perfectly arched eyebrow questioned Dante.

Dante licked his dry lips, the unbearable anticipation of uncovering his brother's life-long secret swimming in his shining eyes. He was on the brink of the ultimate discovery, his childhood frustrations all waited for this very moment.

A careful deliberation followed in the form of a short, tense pause. "A lot," Dante said in a monotonous tone to disguise his unwillingness to reveal his unbearable eagerness.

"Enough to help me rebuilt our father's residence or to do so yourself should I become in any way...incapacitated?" Vergil hastily laid out his demands, not taking any chances with Dante letting it go. It was one thing asking for promises that involved not going to hell or taking care of a girl, but when it came to hard labour, apart from slicing and dicing, Vergil knew Dante lacked the required enthusiasm.

"_That_ depressing place?" The younger twin made a long face not liking Vergil's unexpected wage.

"Yes, _that_ depressing place," Vergil sighed and skipped his customary eye roll as he had anticipated as much from Dante. "But in a much less depressing way, the way it used to be like...before the incident," he added impassively but the undertone of sadness and passion was hard to hide.

Dante rubbed his chin, and after a while his face lit up with exquisite brightness. The mystery would be revealed! And he only had to build a house, where Vergil would be happy, or really just a half of it as he would darn make sure that Vergil would live to build the other half, and _then_ be happy. Dante spat into his palm and extended it to Vergil, "alright, it's a deal. Now, show me!" His excitement was now impossible to subdue.

Satisfied, Vergil made it a point to ignore Dante's spit-full hand and instead acknowledged their agreement with a curt nod. He then dipped his hand into the large pocket of the silk coat, slowly and gingerly, as if some shy and fragile fire creature or an oath-bound demon lighting up matches had lived there.

Expectation heightened dangerously as Dante stared point blank at the said pocket that seemed to have trapped Vergil's hand for way too long, picturing all sorts of magic that could have been happening right under his eyes. Finally Vergil pulled out his finger, the small yellow flame of mystery dancing on his thumb.

Awed yet disappointed that he hadn't seen a thing, Dante let out a frustrated, desperate protest. "Vergiiiil!"

Letting the torture last a little longer, Vergil put on a mystical face, running his forefinger over his thumb to extinguish the fire. "That's it," he said, brushing off his hands nonchalantly.

"You prick," Dante mouthed feeling deceived, about to turn to walk away.

"Wait," Vergil suppressed a smirk as he dipped his hand into his pocket a second time and pulled out...several tiny pieces of a demonic fire pebble.

"_You prick_!" Dante exclaimed in a drawl, his eyes widening as he glimpsed the source of Vergil's great power. Some great power! And he had been racking his brains over this all this time? Suddenly, Dante couldn't help but feeling hilariously stupid. "You cheated all this time?" he grumbled, amused misery etched into his expression.

"Cheated?" Vergil's face registered surprise. "I merely told you the truth, it is magic," he threw his hand into the air and the magic stone dust flew off, carried away in the light breeze.

"Uh huh, and your finger?" Dante pointed at his brother's blackened thumb.

"It hurts like hell, or not as much, depending on how you look at it... or how long I have to leave it burning," Vergil's mouth morphed into a ghost of a smile before he kicked Mercy with his boots and started to trot away. "Wait for me here, I shan't be long," Vergil's deep voice carried past his shoulder as he disappeared into the sunlit woods, Rebellion lifted high in the air like he was about to charge a whole army.

Dante let out a full-hearted laugh, then listened to the distancing clap of hooves, hoping that Vergil would return, soon, just as he had promised.

Grudgingly letting his worries pass, Dante turned to Vesta who had stood there silently, watching the twins with an adoring hint of a smile. After all, they were the first who felt like a real family...something she had always dreamed of, and now, now she so longed to be a part of it, yet...she now knew she could never have it.

Approaching the zoned out girl, Dante scratched his head and placed his hand on her shoulder, "right then, where were we? Oh yes, let me show you how you can use some _real_ powers."

Vesta lifted her eyes to him, slowly and gently, her smile fading out. "But why Dante? Is it...," her face set in starkness as she repeated his words from the conversation with Vergil they had the night before, "...because they still want to obliterate my lovely ass?"

* * *

_Dun dun dun! Vesta heard everything! Oh man! I don't know about this one, it felt a bit sporadic to me maybe, what did you think? I promise the next one will be getting somewhere! _

**Sorry for the great lateness, I have been on holiday and so was my brain as it seems, not to mention the time I have to spend increasingly on other things right now. **

For those who still fumble in the dark art of reviewing, here is a little hint in 3 Dante-easy steps (_the voice in Italics_, Dante – normal (well, relatively speaking XD)):

1) _Press that button._ Which one? _The one that says eternal glory and recognition_. Ah, oh yeah! Sure! (Presses button).

2) _Type in the secret words._ What words. _The one's that will open the door_. What door? _The door to my heart. _Awww. Ok, I know those... (Types eagerly).

3) _Now bask in the goodness of a good deed._ Do I have to? _No, that's optional._ I'd rather have a kiss. _You are not getting one. _You are so mean. _Ok, you can go now._ I don't wanna. _You want to wait here for the next chapter then?_ What chapter? _Uuum, never mind..._


	24. The final step to hell

**The final step to hell**

The leaves rustled and a bird took off to the sky. His hand still lingered quiescently on her shoulder but his eyes twitched ever so slightly at the sound of wings flapping so loudly in the air. _She had heard everything. Of course she did, she was a devil after all..._

Dante stared at her unnervingly calm face, unmoving, trying to process how she might react, how she could take it, thinking that if she was to run away now, Vergil might not get to that mountain alive.

Somewhere past the sheer wall of the waterfall, Vergil stilled and only his eyes swivelled to the side. A pesky bird flapped over the snow-covered crowns of trees and landed on a nearby branch, making what he thought was too much noise. He turned his eyes back to his prey, relieved that it stayed undisturbed, and had not run away, the distant hum of water lessening the unwanted sounds.

She had the chance, a perfect chance this morning...to run off, to just disappear, so why didn't she take it, Dante's lips straightened into a thin line.

"You heard, heard it all, and you are still here...," the devil in red said cautiously, his grip tightening on her shoulder as if he was preparing to stop her from escaping. Yet he slowly realised his notion was completely misplaced. She could have run away like a little selfish girl, like a frightened deer, but she stayed to confront the reality instead. He now knew how Vergil found his rarely given respect for her.

"You don't get it do you, I don't care about any of it, and I don't want any powers. All I want is to have a life, a perfectly normal, _human_ life," she bore her frustrated eyes into his unreadable blues, the tone of her voice matching the intensity of her look.

"Then why did you come here?" he snapped harshly, instantly regretting his loss of cool as guilt bit sharply into his conscience. He just didn't understand, couldn't comprehend her purpose in all of this, and most of all, the potential and unknown danger to Vergil. "Why did you come back? Why did you return to my brother when you couldn't wait to get away?"

_Here you are... I'm relieved you came. You will provide me with much needed strength._ Vergil prepared his brother's clunky sword that felt too heavy in his hand, mentally snarling that he would have to go for a chase. If he had a katana, a light and slender weapon, he could have just let it sail through the air and be done with it quickly.

"Because...," Vesta snapped back out of frustration. How many times would she have to defend something she never wanted in the first place? "I am not your enemy Dante. I don't want to lure Vergil into a trap, I don't want to betray anyone, I have never asked to be what I don't want to be," she protested in an insistent tone, jabbing her finger into his hard and puffed up chest.

_You are not my enemy, I don't make it personal, I just need your blood. I didn't ask to be this way. _Eyes narrowing into dark slits, muscles clenching with anticipation,Vergil kicked his heels and Mercy sprang ahead, driving the large deer into a trap; a dead-end, a rock and a small ravine by the mighty waterfall.

"And I came here because I could not have a life with that darn map etched into my back like a magnet for trouble at every single passing moment of my life," she added, her voice somewhat calmer, almost hesitant.

"A map...to this place?" Dante nudged his chin sharply to the sunlit mountain, a ring of redness floating around its peak, the same colour that just crept into her face. "Is that the reason you came with Vergil?" there was an uneasy sharp edge to his words, his eyes digging deep with pressing expectation into her hesitant large brown orbs.

After a pause filled with nervous tingling under her skin and in her gut, Vesta admitted dispiritedly, lowering her eyes and voice, "no, not the only one."

Slowly Dante traced his hand from her shoulder up to her chin. Another moment of stillness passed.

"Then why?" he pushed her head up and her eyes rose to his.

She bit into her lip. "He is the only one who gave me any respect. The _only_ one Dante, even after he learned who I was, after he saw what I did, and he still defended me. And then he said, at this place, the one on the map, the carving on my back would disappear, and then I could have my life back again. But I would come anyway, I wanted to..."

The half-devil looked into her eyes, hard and long. He could see something he had not seen for a long time. Love. Pure and simple. However it could have happened, the daughter of Mundus did care for his troublesome and difficult brother, this was the only explanation after all. Only Vergil needed her to survive, for now, he said so himself, didn't he? What would Vergil do once he had his powers back, once he didn't need her anymore, no matter how much he seemed to have changed now...with his full might back...Dante didn't want to guess. Did she know what she could be getting herself into?

A disconcerted sigh made its way out of Dante's throat as he looked deeper into those pure, honest eyes. Very human eyes.

"If he lives through this, you know that he will return to his demonic self, he would be far less human than he is now and that, I don't think can be changed." What was he doing? Who was he trying to protect, Vergil or her?

The front legs rose at the perfect time and the slender body of the horse arched with a matching elegance to the deer as both beasts jumped over the fallen trunk of a tree. Trapped, nowhere to go, the animal dove its soft hooves into the ground and it turned back in a panicked attempt to get away. Soon after, a massive sword plunged straight into its heart, killing it instantly. A powerful growl of a thrill resonated over the nearby falling water. He missed it so much. He missed how it used to make his devil come alive, how it stirred the darkness in his blood. Soon, very soon, he would be able to taste the sweetness of the unearthly power coursing through his veins again...

"No, I don't believe that, maybe you have not seen him the way I have. But even if it was true, I will remain true to who I really am, a human, even if I had to live with a devil. I feel like I exist with him, that I am someone, I feel safe with him, and I know he will be there to protect me, even if I am wanted by hell itself, and I know he wants it too no matter how much he may be fighting it," Vesta gazed at Dante's face, trying to find a sliver of agreement, something that would tell her she wasn't being completely delusional, only a little bit.

Receiving no sign of an assurance, she almost pleaded, her eyes becoming moistened with water, "Isn't...isn't hell following him? Then how could it be worse once he finds his freedom than the way he is now? I know he may be using me now, I am not blind, but I believe Vergil is not a monster, and he has a heart..."

Vergil dismounted the mare silently and wrapped his fingers around the skull on the cold steel hilt. Opening his mouth, he yanked the broadsword out of the heart of the fallen beast and plunged his face into the spray of blood. Lapping at the hot crimson flow hungrily, he started to feel the effects fresh blood brought to his demon side. The nearly dormant cells, moaning and stirring, screaming to come to life like seeds blessed with water after an agonizing drought; yet there was no energy left to lift them up and they began to die down again.

He nearly yelled in frustration, his fist hitting a nearby tree. Still the rich blood provided energy to his human side, and the much needed nutrition. Vergil drew back his crimson covered face and his bleeding hand, ripping off the heart that became impaled on the sword. His teeth sank into the dark, fleshy muscle.

"Worse? No, Vergil is no monster but once his demon takes over, he would at least be a lot less forgiving. You don't know how far rooted his hatred is, the hatred for your real father, the hatred for all that has ever demeaned him. I wouldn't want it to turn ugly." Dammit, why could he not help but like the girl? Why did he suddenly feel the need to protect her, even from his own beloved brother? Because, that's what he did, he had always protected strangers, because he never could his own family, that's why he couldn't really let suffer anyone who so naively tried to love his unstable brother...

"What are you trying to say?" her voice came out all shaky and she swallowed hard before continuing in a low, saddened tone, "Vergil told me my real father was bad, but he didn't kill my father, and I never knew him, so there is no reason for hate...is there? Is there ever?"

Dread making a wild sweep through him, Dante regarded her for a while, grateful that she didn't know it was him who killed her father. He watched how she chewed on her lip till it was bleeding and then healing again. Other than that, she didn't budge at all, her eyes peering into his so stubbornly. Just as well he was so good at camouflaging his inner turmoils, Dante thought, and gave her a brief bitter smirk.

"Why do I have the feeling you have already made up your mind," he sighed and diverted his eyes to the ground before taking hold of her shoulders and fixing his hard gaze on her. "Just don't leave him, even if he plays an ass," he was serious, the dear consequences playing like dark shadows in his much toughened eyes.

"I won't leave him," Vesta said resolutely, not once looking away, not once hesitating, like a soldier standing to attention. "I have lived with assholes all my life...don't I in turn deserve a _nice_ piece of ass?" she finished off with a lopsided wicked smile.

Vergil shifted on the horse, the hard hooves making muffled steps on the blanket of moss and snow. Passing the waterfall, he extended his hand to pass his fingers through the crystal clean water. He rubbed his blood splattered face with his wetted palm, his mouth still swollen and smeared with the remnants of his raw meal. Feeling high from the steep rush of energy, he let out a pleased grunt, letting his eyes slip close. Mercy rounded the solid veil of water, now walking into the trees to greet the scent of the burned out fire...

"You!" Dante shook his head, stinging sensation invading his eyes as he kept staring at her in silent resignation. "Come here, you perv, I know you enjoy it," mumbling quietly yet teasingly, Dante wound his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Did stubbornness run naturally in a half-breed's veins? Weren't they all so stubborn?

She let herself sink into the comfort of his warm body, her face pressing into the calming softness of his neck. "But only with him," she whispered into his skin that smelled so faintly of fresh berries. They went so well with chocolate...

"Yeah, he loves ya babe," Dante whispered back and gently kissed her hair, hoping for her sake that it was true.

"Thank you...," her words nearly drowned in his warmth as she slowly lifted her arms and embraced Dante in return.

Vergil's eyes opened and a dark flare of torturous pain shot into their depths. He could barely hold his gaze and yet what he saw should bring relief to his stubborn soul. Mercy restless as she picked up on her master's foul mood, the horse gave a prance, alerting the embracing couple to their presence.

Vesta let go of Dante instantly, her lip in near shreds as she had bitten into it very hard, the look set on Vergil's face sending shivers down her spine. She was almost sure that he could have killed her at that very moment, or even Dante, if that fleeting feral look didn't subside into a guarded, cold indifference.

Vergil approached them, Dante silently rubbing his nose, eyes aimed cautiously at Vergil from under his long silver lashes. Dante knew, saying anything would make things only worse, it was best to leave it alone and let Vergil vent it out. Yet it surprised Dante that his brother hadn't even thrown in a sarcastic remark, seeming even less readable and predictable when it came to women. Did he...care enough to bear letting her go? Didn't seem like it before.

Coming to a halt, Vergil looked down on them, neither saying a word.

"Let's go," the older twin uttered flatly, extending her his hand while throwing Dante his sword. If it had been anyone else, anyone but his little brother, he would have ripped their head off with his bare hands. He had never felt anything like this before but somehow it felt right, it made him feel alive and powerful, but at the same time it made him see that he would always feel like this, if she was in someone else's arms. And this was not good, how could he give her up to Dante if it would stir a rage inside him that he would never want to gage at his little brother, let alone anyone a lot less capable of defence?

Her hand slipped into his and he hoisted her up onto the horse. Taking the reins into a better grip, Vergil lined up Mercy with the mountain standing proud on the horizon.

"Hey, what about me," Dante called out, resisting to slap the restless bottom of the horse, not fancying having his fingers amputated by a sharp row of some very wide and yellow teeth, remembering his near miss the last time. The mare seemed even more intolerant to teasing, dancing on her back feet, anticipation of a run flashing in her wide maddened eyes.

"You can walk," came a dry response and the horse shot off into a full gallop, hooves digging deep into the ground. A piece of ripped out tuft of grass and mud landed in Dante's face and Dante wiped it off, leaving a devilish smirk behind. He knew...he knew that it had worked. Vergil was jealous...

A content expression settled on Vergil's face. He may not have brought himself to rip Dante's head off but at least he could make him sweat a little having to run the distance to the mountain. Perhaps it would make Dante think twice before getting too close to his woman. His woman! Vergil drew his eyebrows into a dark scowl. This was not where he wanted it to go.

Silence wrapped around the regular rhythm of the steadily galloping hooves. Eyes set sternly at the growing mountain, Vergil pondered his own naivety. What was he thinking? He could not let her go! He would be condemning himself back to that destructive lifestyle he so took to loathing. Didn't he want to stray from his father's unwise path? A path that took him away from their mother straight into the jaws of hell... Even if his father did try to make it here, to reclaim his power, he had never made it. He had never stood a chance without the support of his family that he so blindly discarded. Perhaps his devil blinded him, just like what it had done to Vergil...until his mother's side, and someone so very unlikely, made him see the truth and the real empowerment...

Vergil looked up at the barren peak of the dark gray mountain. If he died, then Dante would have his full blessings but if he lived...then giving Vesta up would only result in following in his father's footsteps. And he loathed that, loathed what that had done to his mother, to all of them. How _could_ he possibly do the same? Only did he now push Vesta away too far, did she prefer to be with Dante now? How could he only know?

Her arms wrapped firmly around his steadily beating chest, cheek resting on the back of his firm shoulder, Vesta didn't dare to speak despite the flood of words that so painfully lingered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to explain, wanted to plead her utter stupidity. How could she do that to him, how could she have been so careless as to bring such a terrible doubt of her to his volatile mind? And he didn't say anything. Which meant that he was hurt. Yet she knew that no words would convince him, make him see that she would never betray him. There was only one way that she could think of to put things right. She had to do something, something too visible for him to miss it, to see that she would jump into a deep dark lake filled to the brim with deadly monsters for him too...

Lost in thoughts, neither knew the foot of the mountain approached until they came to a still. Mercy let out an annoyed snort and dug her foot into the frozen ground, unable to go any further.

His eyes coming to focus, Vergil forced his mind to return to him and after a short pause to gather his bearings swung his leg over the horse to dismount. They would have to go on foot from now on, the daunting rocks jutting out into the sun dazed sky like a hellish staircase to heaven right in front of them.

Vergil jumped to the ground softly and slipped his hand into hers to pull her firmly down to him. Vesta gave him a shy smile, one she had never shown before, confidence slipping from her fingers. This was it. The last climb to hell or heaven, and it would all rest on her. She would have to show him how she felt, and then, only fate would decide what was meant for them.

Leaving Mercy behind, Vesta started to climb, irony tugging bitterly at her lips. Leaving mercy behind...how true that was in the veritable sense. The adventure has ended, there was no going back now, only a steep rocky climb. Looking at the enormous pile of ominous rocks stretching as high as she could see, Vesta just hoped the place on the map wasn't right at the very top.

The treacherous, steep ascent however soon became a routine that had been pushed to the back of her perception. It was so very peaceful, only the distant shrieks of eagles disturbing the serenity in the warm glow of the sun, she imagined just for one long while that she was out on a romantic hike in the most beautiful mountains with her lover holding her hand... Closing her eyes, she drew in the fresh alpine air, just a few more steps and they would reach the top and have a light picnic with some delicious dessert after...

"Watch where you're going," it was the first thing he said for over an hour she thought, it wiped out her dreamy visage and she whipped her head to the voice that was surprisingly above her. He held her hand, and she nearly gasped in shock, the threads of her daydream fluttering in her heart. But as her mind came to, she could see that it wasn't Vergil, it was Dante, merely preventing her from grabbing a small slippery ledge that had just crumbled away.

"How...," Vesta let slip out as she tried to catch her breath, gaping at Dante who looked fresher than ever, sitting on a flat rock above her as if he had been there resting for a long while, waiting.

"You flew," came flatly from below and Vesta turned her attention to Vergil, his stony face concealing all signs of exertion which would have worked if it wasn't for the sweat glistening on his temples. It was clear he wasn't happy. Wait a minute, flying? Vesta felt herself float in the air, was she still daydreaming?

"Well, I gotta use it sometime right? Or it might get all rusty," Dante proclaimed, lifting Vesta up by her arm onto a small straight platform he was sitting on.

"Shame you have not thought it prudent to do the same with your brain. Your high energy escapades will only attract more attention," Vergil scolded sulkily, scrambling to reach the flat ledge, swatting away Dante's hand that came down to offer help.

"And who exactly are we attracting more?" Dante shrugged and sat back down on the rock. "The whole hellhole knows we are here."

"And now you would have been added to the hit list!" Vergil snapped, his eyes blazing as he pulled himself up and jumped heavily onto the platform near Dante, not really knowing why he felt so angry. Dante's recklessness had never managed to vex him so much before, not to mention he had long gotten used to it, so why was he feeling so upset now? Was it...stress?

Dante, flabbergasted, was about to point out very emphatically that he had always been on the hit list, only Vesta jumped in with an eager, hurried question. "You can fly?" she added a very fake looking grin.

Her attempt to diffuse the growing tension however appeared to have paid off as it seemed to divert Vergil from his current foul mood; his expression shifted from murderous to devious...

"Yes, let me demonstrate," Vergil responded on behalf of Dante, taking a few fast strides to shove Dante off of the cliff. Dante rolled out of the way at the last moment but didn't miss Vergil's quietly hissed curse word as Vergil was forced to swerve to avoid plunging down himself.

"Hey, who ate your good mood!" Dante sprang back to his feet and in a flash had Rebellion drawn, its cold steel tip inches from Vergil's pulsing neck. The older twin didn't flinch one bit, didn't even move.

"I never had one," Vergil said flatly, his imagination starting to form spectral blue handles that grew slender, long icy blades, their razor sharp tips itching to plunge into a nearby red-clad flesh. Only a single command, single gesture of his devil would release them from their hold in the air...

"Vergil?" Vesta leaned in and ran a finger in front of his glazed over eyes in a worry that he may have been getting suicidal again. The blue-clad devil's mind sent the signal and the ghostly army impaled Dante from every possible angle, sending amazing patterns of blood sprays in every direction. How satisfying. "Do you need any..."

"No, I feel much better now, thank you," the corner of Vergil's mouth curled up into a devilish smirk; he had just found another form of relaxation. And no one got hurt. Vergil turned on his heels limberly and headed for the centre of the mountain, through the large rocks thrown about on the small plateau they were sitting on.

Vesta still held her finger in the air, forgetting that Vergil was no longer there. She heard Dante sheath his sword and a warm hand lowered hers as a large red leather coat brushed past her.

"Hey Verge, so where are we going?" Dante set off after his brother, calm and composed as if they hadn't just had an argument, with a very deadly weapon, on the edge of a very steep long precipice.

Shrugging to steady her jittery nerves, Vesta let out the air she was holding and took one last peak at the amazing view, very very far below the heaps of sharp rocks, and then took off after the boys. It was as if there was a path, a very narrow path, leading to the belly of the silent black beast towering in front of her. The further inside the mountain she moved, the more she felt the shivers slither down her spine. It was becoming darker, the sun now hiding behind the peak, and it was more humid, almost warm, the stench of something uncanny and merciless crawling under her skin. _No mercy here..._

Vesta shook and nearly shrieked as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her swiftly into a small recess to the side of a pitch black entrance of a narrow cave. She turned, ready to kick whatever organs she could get to when a row of shining teeth greeted her.

"Jeez! Don't do that!" she breathed out sharply, skipping the tempting chance to smack Dante across his beaming face as Vergil was crouching right behind him. Stealing a long glance at the blue twin's intense face, it suddenly occurred to her whether she would be able to be friends with Dante, whether she could have fun and laugh with him without feeling guilty for every smile she didn't direct at Vergil.

Her spark must have faltered at that very moment as Dante stilled and his eyes hardened, peering deeply into hers for a few long moments, before he slowly turned to Vergil.

"This seems too easy, nobody has bothered to give us a proper welcoming," Dante remarked quietly, nodding to the entrance to the cave. Vesta let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, letting go of the fear that she would trigger another unwanted tension between the twins. Thank god, all was good, considering, she must have been worrying too much...

"This is only the top level entrance. The sacred caves should be deep below, in the centre of this rock formation. Knowing daddy, all hell's intrusions should be our least worry," Vergil relieved everyone with his confident, flat deliberations. Vesta raised one eyebrow, happy that her attention was diverted from the worrying to the terrifying.

Dante stilled in startled surprise, trying to repeat in his head what Vergil had just said. _Daddy?_ How did father fit into this? His senses went on high alert but he simply didn't want to know, refused to want to find out. As far as he was concerned, their father had abandoned them, he was no longer in their lives, end of story. Dismissing his brief spike of curiosity, Dante quickly diverted himself from thoughts he didn't want to have.

"Well yeah, maybe the underworld forgot to organize a backup? You know, not expecting us to set the demon timber on fire?" Dante added his own conclusions, knowing how long it took for demons to regroup once he wiped out their asses. At least Vergil's little unexpected remark made him dream of all the fun that could be awaiting them.

"Maybe. Or perhaps they are just too afraid of this place. Dear father would not have been so careless as to leave it unprotected." _Sorry to say he lacked such foresight in his other judgements_, Vergil held his glum thought inside him, adding what he deemed more helpful for the other's to consider. "Yet there is still someone who would not be persuaded to leave so easily, another reason for the demon world to have reconsidered a swift comeback," Vergil made known haughtily, and would have adjusted his gloves which to his annoyance he didn't have on. Instead he resorted to smoothing out a few tendrils of his hair that hang loosely from his earlier outburst, still wishing for his gloves as the sharp rock had left a myriad cuts on his hands and they were healing ever so slowly.

"Well then, what are we waiting for! Let's not keep anyone waiting," Dante suggested with a smirk and smacked his gloved palms against his knees before extending out his hand. "Ladies first," he nodded at Vesta who gave him the oh-thanks-so-very-kindly sarcastic face before turning and disappearing into the oval pool of darkness.

Seeing her vanish into the black void, Vergil shot off his feet and was about to plunge after her, only Dante grabbed his arm and stopped him, the sudden motion loosening Vergil's hair he had just managed to smooth out.

"Wait. Just one thing," Dante pulled Vergil back to him, and looked Vergil sharply in his annoyed eye. "You should know, that no matter how incredibly tempting this is, I have absolutely no intention to take her away from you, even if I could. Which I couldn't, you see, cause, dude, that girl...how would I put it...well, she would go through hell to be with you. So stop wearing that irritating jealous mask, it doesn't suit you one bit," Dante explicated quietly and narrowed his eyes, his older mirror doing the same in return. "If you want to kill something, kill that foul mood of yours, cause I ain't liking it. One bit," Dante added bitingly.

They stared at each other intensely for an eternal moment before Vergil finally let go of his stubbornness, inwardly cursing his stupid childishness. How could he have been so immature? Of course Vesta would not choose Dante over him! And if Dante tried something he would simply rip his head off. Nice and simple.

"Right," the dark twin drew in a sharp breath through his nose and without another word took off into the cave.

So who was the mature one again? Dante cracked a grin and, shaking his head, went after them. The deeper he moved into the surprisingly smooth cave, the warmer and more humid it became, the sound of dripping water mingled with the steps of two pairs of boots that echoed dully around him. Finally brushing past his slow brother in the narrow space barely wide enough for two to pass, he soon caught up with Vesta who just walked on languidly but carefully. Placing his hand on top of her head, noting her subdued flinch with evil merriment, Dante rotated her to face the dark silhouette that was Vergil, the entrance now lost far behind.

"Excuse me, I'll lead the way now, _you_ lead the boy over there. He can't see," Dante said with a grim amusement dancing on his face and kept Vesta in place as if she would want to protest.

"Can't see what?" _What's right in front of him?_ Vesta grumbled half-heartedly, watching Vergil's silhouette flow fluidly towards her. Even if he did see her, was he ever going to acknowledge it? His eyes, they were piercing her so hungrily, so ferociously, though would that burning passion ever make it out of that treacherous cage cast in steel-solid pride he was encased in? Would he ever see her, truly see her, and made it known? Would she find out soon? The intense blue left her with a shiver as his eyes swayed to Dante.

"I can see just fine," Vergil informed them coolly, coming to a halt right in front of Vesta. "So let's get one thing straight. I will be the one to lead, considering this is my own matter," he announced demandingly, making a step forward to squeeze past Vesta.

"Oh yeah?" Dante stretched out his hand and let Vergil's chest recoil from his open palm. "So what can you see exactly?" the younger twin asked wonderingly, raising his eyebrow.

Vergil passed a look of annoyance to the hand that stopped him and to the unfair, and irrelevant in his opinion, question. Did he need to be reminded of his growing limitations at every single opportunity? "The dark, mostly," he enunciated indifferently, showering his progressing predicament with inward curses. What did it matter...he was almost there and he would be more than equal to Dante again!

"Aha, that's for sure. You hit the nail right there, Verge! You were always the best at that," Dante's face appeared lit even in the murkiness of the humid cave. Vergil bit his tongue, urging the urge to make a living lantern out of his brother to subside; his hand sliding silently off the hilt of the demonic dagger.

"Anything else? Like, say deadly traps and contraptions? Can you see those? Can you get us there in let's say, anything less than two pieces?" Dante kept pointing out confidently, standing his ground against the influx of ghostly daggers that surged from Vergil's eyes. He hated to be harsh but he simply needed to steer Vergil towards the strategic reasoning and the only way to do that was to put it on the plate straight. Dante could sympathise with his brother, and understood his need to be the one to accomplish his goal, to be himself again, but he simply had to make Vergil see that Dante was there for a good reason too.

The silence, filled with quieting breathing, said it all. Dante's tactic worked and Vergil relented, though too silently, which meant reluctantly. Still it was enough. "Didn't think so. I, on the other hand, see everything. So if you please, follow me," Dante announced to the whole cave confidently and turned to take a step into the darkness filled air, Vesta listening sternly all this time, not daring to interfere.

A loud hollow click resounded throughout the dead darkness, and the split second left for a dreadful realisation wasn't enough to stop the landslide. The earth shifted from under their feat and the law of gravity took its course. The darkness itself appeared on a move rapidly past as they started to plunge, the floor of the cave seeming to turn to point down by forty five degrees.

"I take it you _saw_ that one?" Vergil grumbled irritably, arms folded in reinforcement of his protesting stand, or rather sitting, as his bottom cheeks were firmly planted against the sloping floor, Vesta slipping away somewhere in front of him.

"Aaaah, just a slide!" Dante rejoiced dismissively some yards ahead, getting comfortable on his butt as it slid smoothly over some sort of a stone that felt like a warm glass.

"Woot! Welcome to the Sparda theme park!" he exclaimed loudly and put his hands above his head, letting the air that blasted hotter and hotter against his face and hands. The slide turned sharply to the left like a huge toboggan ride, the end of which came suddenly to Dante's demonic view. "Aaah, shit! Booby trapped," he uttered less flamboyantly, his eyes squinting at the solid ten feet long spikes protruding so conveniently towards them from the bottom of the pit they were heading for. Rapidly. A pit glowing faintly with some hot orange stuff. It looked like lava...

"What was that?" Vesta broke her silence, not liking the sound of Dante's worry that he was so good at hiding. She tried to look past his dark outline up ahead but couldn't quite see what he was referring to.

"Um, nothing, just a little showstopper. Nothing to worry about," Dante hurried to explain, his eyes flying over every crevice and surface on the black walls swishing fast past him, frantically trying to find some way out.

"Most likely a dead end," the two heard from a small distance from behind them, voiced in a bored and annoyed tone.

"Yeah, that's it, a dead end. A very dead end!" Dante affirmed, trying to keep up the unconcerned appearance but failing miserably. The reflection of the deadly spikes protruding from the churning molten rocks getting bigger and bigger in his widening pupils. Nothing like being roasted alive whilst dying impaled on a shiny skewer.

"Dante? What do you see?" Vesta called out, concern tightening her throat. All of a sudden she felt so hot. Her hand shot to her forehead, swiping at the droplets of perspiration that began to form there. "God, it's roasting here," she mentioned unawares, paying a glance to the sweat she smeared between her fingers.

"Yup, we'll be roasting all right," Dante muttered through his clenched teeth, his heels now planted hard into the slippery, dew oiled surface of the deadly ride, thick black smoke forming under his rapidly thinning soles. It was no use, his soles were nearly melting and he wasn't even slowing down.

"Dante! You are on fire!" He barely heard her panicked voice from behind, his senses bubbling into overdrive, blood rushing through his head to stop his brother and the daughter of Mundus from plunging to a grisly death that was approaching faster and faster through the coils of smoke gushing from his boots. Only about ten seconds away...

There was nothing to grab onto, the walls as if made of glass, a narrow tube of certain death, the horridly burned remains of the equally fortunate now gaping in their terrifying glory from the hellish cul de sac.

He could call upon his devil, the tough, heat resistant shell could hold on for some time, time enough for his companions to get to safety...safety where? There was nowhere to go...

"_Dante_!" it was the first time he heard a woman scream out his name in such a terrifying way.

* * *

_OK, that's The End. They all died. Sorry, but, you know...unpredictability and all, right? _

_Wrong! Of course I can't let them die, or can I? Mwahahahaaaa! Eat this cliffy!_

_Well you know what is coming, although you really need to read these guides guys! So many of you still read and forget or are too shy to do the good deed! Gold orb, extra life and a bottle of holy water to those who followed my simple, easy to read instructions! _

_Now then – let's try this again, - three easy steps if you please:_

_1) Take the thing you read with to a playground or some place with the serious sliding equipment._

_2) Fasten device to the inside of the slide, duck tape or similar preferred as glue might cause permanent damage to both surfaces, and I don't want to be responsible... Now seriously, me responsible? *cough*_

_3) Right, now press the REVIEW thingie on the screen, climb up, and slide your butt down it! :D_

_There, all done! Easy isn't it? Right then, say hello to me! I don't bite, really... _


	25. Hell, here we come!

**Hell, here we come!**

Dante felt all the panic, the deep dread of responsibility entangling his nerves. What could he do? He wasn't alone, which would have been a time when he wouldn't care how hurt he got to get things done, but he had always thought he had never been good at looking after others. Rescuing ladies from demons was one thing, but rescuing Vergil...suddenly the weight of it all dawned on him. Vergil had always been the one to be charged with that particular task. And he wasn't Vergil, not able to think of a plan on the fly, in the space of a few seconds while in the clutches of imminent death, not able to come up with a solution with a brain he used mainly for slandering demons to make his kills worth while the effort. Yet he had survived all this time, with recklessness being his second nature, how had he done it?

He looked up. It was the only place that didn't make his eyes feel like they were the desert under a merciless flare of the sun. They would burn out if he didn't avert them from what he was seeing as his failure to the relative coolness of the black rock shimmering above him.

That's when he saw it. The opening, barely visible in the short distance, blending in with the ragged surface of the fast moving ceiling. Only a sharp eye, a demonic eye could have spotted it. But how could he get to it?

"Do something...," a soft plea floated on the muggy air behind him, free of hysterics, free of panic, yet demandingly stressing. He was the one with all the panic... How had he survived all that time when Vergil hadn't been there to guide him? Dante thought of the time he got through the worst episode of his life...in that dreadful hellish tower...

It all seemed to have happened so easily, so naturally as if by sheer luck or some external power... Dante's eyebrows drew closed. Instinct! That was it. _Just do what comes naturally_, Dante reminded himself, his hand already grabbing for Rebellion as if his subconscious was guiding him as to what he needed to do. Sparing it no more thought, he secured a steel-solid grip on the hot silvery handle and yanked his sword briskly off his shoulders. Waiting for the right moment, he sprang up and rammed it with all his might into the solid rock above him, flexing his bicep to take the toll of gravity. Now all he had to do was to prey the rock would hold and that he could catch the other two...

Dante found himself dangling above the deadly precipice, one arm bent at the elbow with his hand gripping his keepsake so hard it began to shake, the other suspended down to scoop up what he considered his second chance; a chance to save his brother from plunging headlong into hell. If he had known how much damage that single second would have done to Vergil, how much pain it would cause to both of them, he would have tried that much harder then.

One thing was certain though, he would not fail a second time, the hard lines etched into his stern face told as much, sinking even deeper into unnatural rigidity as he realised his dilemma; the girl was going to go past him first. A terrible, blood churning thought scurried darkly through his mind and shook him to the core. If he caught Vesta, he would not be able to save Vergil...

Would he... Horrified at the silent coldness and brutality briefly flashing inside him, Dante shook off the split second deliberations. He would not, he could not! ...let her die. Not with that good soul strangled inside her, one that had not been touched by evil no matter whose blood she carried.

But neither could he let Vergil die. Not after all what they had been through, not after Dante had seen the hopeful light flickering at the edges of his brother's soul, the end of their incomprehensible distance and bitter coldness, the end of Dante's worry that his only remaining family was slipping away with every passing day and the unbearable thought that there was nothing he could do. But now he could! He would not go through that pain again, to live with the soul ripping torment of the never fading knowledge that he had failed his brother, that he had helped to deliver him to hell...

Sweat dripped down his forehead and caught on his lashes, and Dante closed his eyes, letting the drops of perspiration fall to the sloping ground below. He had been there only for a second but his mind had gone through the desolate plains of hell and back thousand times.

Hi brow pushed down hard, to shut his eyes even tighter, to drive away the flood of dread-filled self-doubt. A small breath of air with her scent passed his face. She was coming nearer. Dante clenched his teeth and his hand hesitated, fingers coiling inwards, rising away from the burning pit below. His mind blackened, just for a tiny splinter of a second, when a desperate growl ripped through his insides.

His hand shot down and grabbed the girl.

She was lifted up, he felt her light weight pulling on his flexing arm. _You tied my hands...my human tied me up to save the devil that is part of me. Part of me forever..._ Dante held her, dangling in the air, his face shut to the dark cave, his soul screaming to the world. The weight of what he had done attaching itself to every inch of his body, his arm nearly imploding with the heavy burden. He felt Rebellion slowly slipping away from the hard stone. He had to move on, and he knew he had to do it now.

Wait. Heavy weight? But she had been so light...when he had held her in his arms before.

Dante dared to pry open his eyes and take a look below. His mind didn't quite catch up to what his blurry eyes tried to delude him to.

"Dante, I got him! Try to throw me into the opening!" her firm but desperate voice made his brain swim out of the muddy water and take a closer look. Vergil was swaying precariously, but swaying nonetheless, from Vesta's taut arm, the glowing white-hot pit below his feet casting an illumination worthy of a devil on his face. Dante didn't move, his muscles still locked up from the shock of expecting his brother to die and now seeing him alive.

"Dante! You may not be aware that I am currently in the possession of only a single pair of boots. Therefore, I would appreciate if you would deem it appropriate to move your derriere right now and spared me from walking around barefoot."

Vergil's customary phlegmatic voice surprisingly injected life into Dante's numbed senses. He saw Vergil hanging down, his arm locked securely with Vesta's, his boots dangling precariously above the glistening tips of the hellish spears, touching them from time to time.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck me sideways and then some more! Don't you do that to me again! Ever! You hear me!_ Dante shook horribly from head to toe. He could have kissed that blasted woman for being so unexpectedly useful but he knew that Vergil would try to kill him...well as soon as he had Yamato back. Instead Dante would just smack himself, when no one was looking, for not even thinking of the possibility that she would not want Vergil to die either and was just as capable of lifting him up.

Now he just had to get them both into the hole in the ceiling, before his arm was going to fall asleep or Rebellion would fall out, which ever would happen first.

Swinging his arm from side to side to gather the momentum, Dante threw Vesta into the narrow opening as far as he could, watching Vergil glide up in front of his eyes, receiving a miffed look that made Dante return a waspish nod. Even in the face of death, all Vergil could think of were his boots and dignity, not the fact that Dante nearly breathed his last breath at the thought of his loss. Nice to feel appreciated now and then! Well he knew it was there somewhere, usually in the form of Vergil silently returning the favour in an even more daring way. And he had the feeling the opportunity might come sooner than later.

Digging her heels firmly into the ragged rock, Vesta made sure Vergil was secure below her before continuing upwards through the chimney-like formation. Strange that it seemed all natural, not as a man made means of an escape, despite the broken off pieces of metal sticking out from the edges. But then why wasn't it sealed, has anyone else managed to make their way through before them?

Scrambling upwards through the sinuous hole, the feeling of dread crept into her stomach. It was like someone was watching her, following her, just like the same sensation she had used to get back at the village, a feeling that she had learned later to associate with the near presence of monsters.

Working her way up into the dark again, Vesta was slowing down, a terrible unease grinding her muscles to a near halt. Vergil had mentioned that someone would not be dissuaded so easily from this place, had he meant Aaron? That demon could be waiting for her to come out right now, and turn her head into a roasted marshmallow as soon as she popped out...

But he hadn't harmed Vergil. Licking her dry lips, Vesta stole a glance at the man in blue below her. Maybe he could come out of the hole first? Shaking the stupid idea out of her increasingly spinning head, Vesta forced her hands to move further. There was no space to manoeuvre, even if she could admit that she was scared. And she thought she could show Vergil that she would jump into a pit full of monsters for him? A cynical snort escaped the corner of her lips...that will be so darn hard! Could she even actually do it?

Only a few more steps, her sweating hands cutting on the sharp stone but healing instantly, she kept her head down as she slowly, gingerly grabbed the upper edge of the opening. It was still so humid, the air very stuffy yet something even more suffocating hang in the air. It was as if the air itself had been scorched by something hotter than fire.

Swallowing hard, Vesta lifted up her chin, just enough for her eyes to peek over the entrance. There was nothing but an empty cave, a dark rock upon rock and some steps leading down into even more viscid darkness. There was no one there! Was she only imagining things being so new to these demon senses?

"What's the hold up," a calm, indolent voice came from below and shattered her nerves. Vesta flinched horribly, feeling like her bladder had just imploded and she nearly let go of the ledge and more. Inwardly sighing in relief, she thanked the gods that she just didn't piss herself. That would really not be the way to make Vergil see her, since he was right below her...

"Oh nothing," she let out dismissively, together with a very deep breath full of heavy air. "Just making sure all is clear," _and clean_, Vesta assured him, and herself, forcing her nerves to calm down. Gritting her teeth she pulled herself up and jumped out of the hole.

There! Nothing jumped her, nothing burned off the flesh on her skull. All was good! Trying to appear confident as Vergil was coming out close behind her, she ignored her jumping heart and straightened up into a lance, folding her hands at the back, not thinking that he could not actually see her falsified bravery. Vergil popped out from the dark hole and ended up staring at a wall.

"See? I did get you through in one piece!" Dante emerged from the rock chimney with a satisfied glint in his eyes, yet the deep shadow of his earlier decision still lingered, merging with the surrounding darkness. He just prayed Vergil couldn't see it, he simply wasn't ready to tell him yet, knowing that he had to or it would be eating him up for the damnest eternity.

"No, I don't see...," Vergil turned towards the last known whereabouts of Dante's voice, "...and my boots are missing half a sole, or perhaps even too thirds," he pointed out blindly, staring just left of Dante's eyes.

_You should have seen mine! They are barely still attached! _Dante mumbled mentally, thanking the nigh on invisible shreds of diplomacy he carried that he didn't say that aloud. Still he did feel miffed at Vergil's incorrigible intolerance to gratefulness. "Well, I _did_ see the booby trap, didn't I? And you _are_ still in less than two pieces, aren't you? So stop whining already, jeez," Dante threw his hands in the air, hurt tone accompanying his gesture.

"You have indeed been more than useful," Vergil admitted, feeling a little verbal appreciation could not hurt in this case but he still couldn't let out on Dante's lapse of vigilance when it could have cost them their lives, "if you please, though, next time watch for what in fact _triggers_ the said traps, my boots can only take as much," he educated his brother firmly, ending up on a wry sarcastic note.

Vergil stepped aside, nearly bumping straight into a wall, was it not for Vesta hurrying to turn him to face in the right direction.

"It's this way," she prompted gently, keeping her hand on Vergil's shoulder to stop him from falling down the old, worn out stone steps.

Dante would have laughed if he could spare the time. But he didn't want Vergil charging ahead and falling into a deep pit again. He sensed the tension inside Vergil. At other times, what could be more fun than plunging to one's near death in a dark and trap-threaded volcanic mountain infused with hell? That is why he used to hunt alone, responsibility had never been injected into his veins. Vergil had been right, and he knew it. At times, he hadn't been even sure if he could work with someone or dare he think be with someone, actually for longer than a short enough time for him not to endanger their lives.

This is why he had sought to live alone, despite the fact he always hated it. How could he protect someone the whole hell was after if he was so careless himself? His jaw stiffened with a determined thought. That was yet another reason he had to make sure Vergil would live, to take care of the girl, to build half of the house so that Dante didn't have to do it himself, to keep an eye on Dante, to make Dante focus on Vergil instead of his lonely existence; the list now growing considerably.

Lingering for only a moment, Dante took off forward, leaving his self-doubt behind. He would concentrate from now on, and he would be damned if any stupid trap got past him again.

"Not happening again," Dante said confidently and stepped past his companions down the stone staircase.

He pulled his gun out and held it firmly in front of him, not willing to take any more chances. The low cave, twisting down into the belly of the mountain would have been a perfect attack point. Not for hordes of demons as he could easily mow them down to demon clippings, but for a fire...that could have killed them all, even Dante and Vesta, as there was no way out.

Senses cast out to the maximum, Dante descended the steps, one foot gingerly following the other, his eyes scouring every inch of the floor and walls of the stuffy cave. He could smell the remnants of the singing in the air, could taste the faint traces of brimstone, and it reminded him of that arrogant fireball that called itself Aaron. Damn him for not drilling a neat hole into that demon ass's skull when he had the chance. Now he had to keep his eyes peeled for a very dangerous and determined enemy...

The dull click registered in Dante's brain at the same time as the air moved and filled with the stench of blood and metal. Dante ducked down, the reflection of grisly row of spikes flying past his eyes. Talk about eye peeling... With a heart stopping start he remembered the two coming down right behind him and in a move faster than he could remember he had ever mustered, he flipped Rebellion off his shoulders and thrust it behind his back. The heavy metal jolted in his hands, nearly breaking his wrists, and the smell of burning preceded the puff of white smoke that rushed out of the small recesses in the walls.

Dante remembered to breathe and slowly tilted his head backwards. He saw Vesta goggling at his blade that sat an inch in front of her nose, holding shakily the monstrous, blood drenched prongs that pointed at her eyes, a breath of air from her askew pupils.

"This-one-didn't-have-a-trigger," Dante let out hoarsely, feeling his muscles nearly tear out of his arms as the hellish contraption kept pushing backwards like a thousand trolls, insisting on finishing its gruesome deed.

"I-believe-you," Vesta peeped in a high pitched tone, her hand instinctively squeezing Vergil's hand that he had let her hold to guide him down the pitch-black stairs. More smoke began to pour in, making her to want to cough and vomit. That wouldn't be good. She thought of backing away but didn't think she could even move despite Vergil pulling slowly and firmly on her hand.

"Duck!" the resonating loud yell itself should have made her plummet to the ground but instead it was Vergil who pulled her down. The blade screeched over the metal bar that held the deadly prods in place and the trap swung heavily above their heads, vanishing into a deep crevice in the ceiling with a massive clank.

"Phew!" Dante rose casually to his feet, and shook in disgust to dislodge the specks of dried blood that fell on him from the hideous skewers. He looked up to the ceiling placidly, inspecting the distinct, trap resembling holes with his mouth open. Darn, he was so concentrating at looking to the floor and the walls, he completely missed the heads up...

"The trigger was caused by our own movement, watch for any unnatural holes or protrusions Dante," Vergil said matter-of-factly, no sarcasm or haughty lecture in his voice.

"Yeah, holes and protrusions, no sweat!" Dante confirmed more to himself, his elbow wiping off fresh perspiration from his forehead. _Well, maybe a little sweat then_, Dante flipped the salty liquid from his elbow and resumed the descent into the lower levels of the mountain. He would have attributed it to the heat that seemed to drench this place but he knew better. Dante knew that he began to feel the pressure that he had never had the need to feel before in his entire life. A pressure that had become a second nature to Vergil, simply something absorbed into Vergil's everyday routine. Had it been one of the reasons his brother had become so enclosed?

Could Vergil change simply because he no longer needed to do the things he had used to have to do? He did become more open, open about his feelings, about his perils and about his plans, about what he needed to do in this place... It suddenly occurred to Dante that he knew nothing about this ominous mountain and how it was supposed to operate, only that his father was somehow connected which he didn't want to get into. Still, how could Vergil be so sure he could get his power back in this particular place?

Keeping all his wits around him, Dante popped the question and broke the slow, unnerving drip of condensation that raked over the silence drenched cave, and his taut nerves, like sharp claws over blackboard.

"Verge, are you sure about this place?" he licked the sweat from his lips while he kept descending, eyes circling every single inch of the narrow passage, a faint glow now floating up its glistening dew speckled floor, providing what could have been taken for a creepy moonlike illumination.

The sound of the dripping water returned to the foreground, only for a little while, until a deep, passion infused voice appeared right behind him, echoing dully through the passage, travelling far lower into the unexplored darkness. Vergil must have swapped places with Vesta, Dante thought, now with the small light allowing him to see at least where he was stepping. "It is a place of great power and magic. A place so ancient and illusive that many refused to believe in its very existence...until, a said map had been lost and discovered, then many died trying to find it and reap its unearthly potential..."

"But...how does it work exactly?" Dante interjected automatically, not letting his mind stray from the close scrutiny of the treacherous cave.

There was another pause and more annoying dripping of condensation as it gathered and slid down the slippery stone walls. The smell of blood mingling with metal touched Dante's nostrils on a short puff of breeze.

Vergil finally spoke. "It is an ancient demonic..."

"Duck!" Dante shouted and plunged to the ground, the weight of yet another hellish trap heading incredibly fast for the space where his head had just been.

"No," Vergil rolled his eyes enfolded in the dark, "and please do not interrupt me."

Dante whipped his head back, hearing Vergil still talking, why on earth did he refuse to duck? His widened deep blue orbs watched the bloody clobber sail back into the hole in the ceiling, an inch short of gouging out Vergil's eyes and shredding his face.

"As I was saying, it is a powerful ancient demonic spirit that was stolen from the demon world...," Vergil enlightened Dante who let out a sigh of relief for the thousandth time that day. Vergil stopped in his tracks and paused his explanation, feeling the coils of distress bomb out of Dante on an almost tangible level. "Is anything the matter?" he asked hesitantly.

"What?" Dante let out aghast. Did Vergil think he was filling in on his speech? Restraining himself mentally from contemplating to let the metal spikes comb Vergil's hair next time, Dante breathed out heavily. "No, nothing's the matter. Keep going," he said frustratingly and getting up, set out to do the same, resuming down the endless staircase with a quiet grumble. This darn tunnel had to end somewhere!

"It is said, that it has the power to return that which has been unjustly taken; the one desire that dominates one's heart the most and rightfully belongs shall be fulfilled."

"It is _said_?" Dante nearly ended up on a high note as the alarms rang through his head. He quickly cleared his throat but the bitter taste of irony still lingered on his tongue. Did they come here, through all this, based on something that had been just said? What happened to Vergil's bulletproof plans? And wasn't recklessness and pure chance Dante's forte?

"Yes! If I had the opportunity to find out before, do you think I would have to be here now?" Vergil hissed more at his unpleasant predicament than at Dante's show of doubt, although it wasn't really helping right now. At least Dante seemed to know how fast could Vergil's mood plummet or explode right now and he remained unaffected, perhaps only hoping deep inside that it would all soon end. But Vergil had to come here. Did he have any choice? Besides, Vergil had a very strong hunch that a certain someone who was now waiting for him to regain his power, and Yamato, had already been to this place at least once before. And since it had been him, Aaron as he called himself, to lead Vergil here all along, the demon had to already have discovered that the myths were indeed no myths at all...

"So, what if it doesn't work?" casually as if not to cause unnecessary panic, Dante popped the question Vergil never even came close to conceding.

"That...is not going to happen. There is no stopping now, one way or...," Vergil paused.

"Why did you stop...," Dante questioned, his senses jumping to high alert. Did Vergil sense something he had missed?

"Why did _you_ stop?" Vergil stared at Dante's feet that were poised apart for balance, no longer moving. Why _weren't_ they moving?

"The stairs ended," Dante informed objectively, yet with a pensive undertone.

"Then, keep walking on whatever is behind them perhaps?" Vergil's demanded impatiently, coming up from behind Dante. How hard was it to keep going? He really didn't need any delays, now that the thought of a dead end started to ebb at his mind. He had to get there, and find out for sure, and the sooner the better.

"Well I would, but somehow the ability to walk on air has passed me by," the red clad twin said deadpan, his fingers rubbing his chin in thought.

"What are you talking about! There has to be a path or some...," Vergil's words were hijacked by the sight that has been revealed in front of him as he peered over Dante's shoulder.

"Wow! So beautiful!" Vesta exclaimed, peeking out through a gap between their legs as she took hold of them to bring her face closer while crouching. "Like a paradise!"

"Hell!" Vergil grumbled, staring ahead.

"Now what we do," Dante mumbled, his head dropping down instinctively to see what was trying to crawl between his legs.

Bounces of curly hair sneaked their way forward and then rotated to show a gaping face that turned to peer at him. "Can't you fly?" her excited lips moved, her sparkling bright eyes lowering again, to take in the breathtaking view.

They were standing, and kneeling, all crammed up against the ending, or rather the entrance, to a tunnel carved in a solid straight rock face, a cliff as deep as a bottomless pit plunging ominously beneath the tips of their feet, a feeling of grim, sinister presence seeping from every crevice of the black oblivion. One false step, one moment of imbalance and they would all plummet to their deaths, into the pitch-black sinister darkness beneath them.

This all however fell into insignificance compared to what had been revealed on the other side of the deep precipice. There, bulging out from the hard rock face, was what could only have been described as a half-sphere of a planet's molten core, a deeply glowing ball of gold, thickset with enormous protruding spikes that looked like some sort of a crystallised matter that had fused together and had grown over a very long time. The mirrored, polished mosaic of each crystal gave off a strong beam of light that was hurled out, expanding in all directions. One such beam was what had drenched the bottom half of the cave they were now all standing in, appearing like a false path of brightness across the dismal abyss, built from golden dust and the shimmery light itself.

"Yeah...but...attention?" Dante held back, directing his pointedly questioning gaze to Vergil. Under normal circumstances he would not be looking for an approval to his actions, but he wanted to be absolutely sure right now as screwing up could cost them dearly.

Holding his unblinking eyes on Dante's, now that he could actually see them, Vergil quirked up the corner of his lips as he spoke, using Dante's earlier words. "Is it not so, that the whole hell already knows we are here anyway?"

"Are you saying you are agreeing with me?" suspiciously taken aback, Dante thought to ask, just in case.

"I am saying, get going already," Vergil said dismissively, his blues set on Dante while he took a step back from the edge. He then glanced down at Vesta before his steel gaze returned to his twin. "I am going first," his voice was dark and resolute, the knowledge that Dante couldn't carry them both reflecting in his eerily lit orbs. And only Vergil knew that this was the safest option. Whatever lurked beneath and on the other side, of which he was sure, Vesta, whilst alone, would only be safe right here. Question was, would he be bestowed with enough patience and strength to withstand the temptations, and actually wait for them to return...

Giving a nod, not ready to argue something he didn't want to get into, Dante began to transform. He stood firm, as the darker flow of his blood erupted, rushing the sanguine haze of demonic energy to his every cell, every fibre, deforming its human shape into a larger, harder form. No longer human in any way apart from his soul, within a few seconds, a creature of hideous visage arched its back with a hollow, unearthly roar and basked in the feel of its mighty wings popping out of the bony joints that protruded from its scaly back. No matter how much he hated to take this form, it never failed to deliver the exquisite feel of power and insuperability.

"Ouch!"

The devil showed his pointy sharp fangs as his head tilted downward to glance upon the source of the noise. It was the brunette, her head stuck between his legs, struggling to pull it out as his thighs were now twice as thick, riveted with hard scales that started to dig deep into her neck.

"I can't get out...," Vesta wheezed out and glanced up as much as she could without Dante's legs cutting her neck in half, her eyes ending up squinting at the enormous bulge that prevented her from seeing Dante's face. Trying quickly to salvage the situation, Dante thought it best to attempt and lift one leg to the side in the tight space which only earned him more pained groans from below.

Dante was about to retort with a snappy comment, angry that transformations were rather costly when it came to energy and he might not have enough for another one if he morphed back to his human form, when a sound he thought he would never hear again reverberated through the cave, jittering his scales.

Vergil was laughing.

Stupefaction and confusion mingling on their faces, for the first time it took Dante and Vesta a whole twenty seconds of stern staring to finally see the funny side of their misfortune and burst out into a mad laughter that flooded into the vast expanse of the murky grim cave like a new bright and sparkling day.

The tension began to dissipate, even if temporarily, with the sheer ridiculousness of their predicament and unlikely situation. Only it all stopped to be funny once his moonstone eyes fell back onto the glowing sphere.

Forcing himself to calm down, Vergil brought up his hand to stifle a cough and cleared his throat. "Perhaps, if I may make a suggestion..."

The two ceased their own outburst and stilled, signalling their willingness, more reluctant on Dante's part, to listen. Deep inside, or rather very much on the surface, Dante knew that he would never hear the end of this one...no matter how many millennia and more hardships were to come.

Calmly approaching his brother packaged as a bona-fide monster, Vergil knocked between the wings on the hard scaly back of the red devil. "Squat and let me get on," he demanded, his voice back to pure business.

The turned devil was about to protest at first but quickly cough up and did just that. As his legs opened up and Vesta's head became free, Vergil quickly climbed onto Dante's back and made himself comfortable as much as he could considering devil's were not exactly made for comfort.

"Now, get us across," Vergil clicked his tongue and kicked Dante in the loins, urging him to get a move on.

"Hey, gentle on the devil, will ya? It's sensitive," Dante snapped back, his barred teeth and bristled up facial scales not scaring his brother one bit.

Vergil lifted one eyebrow, a brief glint of mischief sneaking its way into his eyes. He would not normally take to a childish revenge but this one was for his horse that Dante should have been more respectful with.

Drawing his arm back as far as he could, Vergil faked a sigh over his own insensitivity, "forgive me, lately I do forget my manners sometimes." With that he slapped Dante's black-red butt as hard as he could muster, hurling them both off and over the edge of the precipice. After all, that was the proper way to send a stubborn donkey on its way, wasn't it?

They took a deep dive into the opaque blackness, dipping into its disturbing murkiness, emerging seconds later as Dante managed to level out and turn them back upwards with a few very frantic claps of his wings. The darkness swirled as if had been stirred and dripped from the red devil's feet, the deadly talons kicking madly to dispose of the last drops of the hell-boiled matter. "Fuck Verge, I swear!"

"Indeed," Vergil agreed impassively, holding tight onto the thick hide, his eyes zooming warily at the cave walls that seemed to have began to move. Despite the undying unnatural illumination that the sphere provided it occurred to him that the whole place was growing much murkier. Upon closer inspection he saw the thick oily shadows creeping up the ragged stone, on all sides, from the depths they had just disturbed, slithering upwards to devour what had polluted their illusive peace.

Vergil blinked away the sickening dizziness that suddenly cut through his senses. He never used to get sick flying, even though this wasn't the smoothest ride, but he realised it was the distinct smell that wrenched his guts so tight he nearly forgot to keep his balance. It was the same stench that he had encountered near his home...the same oily, disgusting, living ooze that spent its pitiful existence at the bottom of the lake and one that had devoured his mother. Father's defences were getting a little old now...

She clung to the edge of the deep pit, still kneeling as she wasn't able to stand up, her eyes fixated in light melancholy at the magnificent flying devil. _Flying..._, she let out a deep breath that she had held since they had disappeared under that murky, hazy blanket of darkness. Now, only one thought held her mind...if she was to accept any powers at all, then it would be flying...

The shadows closed in on her vision and she tore her eyes from the spell of the devil's elegant wings to stray to the creepy walls. The nostalgia collapsed instantly at the sight that she prayed to never see again. The same horror filled her eyes and wedged itself firmly into her racing chest just like a few days before when she had been dragged into that dreadful lake. She quickly drew her hands from the spooky edge and searched for any signs of that sickly ooze, her whole body trembling like she had a fever.

Shakily backing away from the deep precipice, Vesta sat down and wound her arms tightly around her knees, rocking back and forth as she watched the two in the distance, now landing safely on the other side. Vergil dismounted and she saw them talk something through almost heatedly while Dante frantically pointed back to the cave that was filling with the rancid living-dead of hell...and Vergil didn't appear sympathetic.

The thought that he couldn't come back now sliced through her mind. Dread drilled into her nerves and she closed her eyes to push out a traitorous tear. How could she have ever thought she could do this? She was not cut out for this! She could not jump into any lake brimming with monsters, she couldn't climb over a deep pit filled with the very fibre of anyone's nightmares. Not for anyone, not even for Vergil! She couldn't do it, she couldn't make him see her in any way...

Vesta sat there, unable to open her eyes, the stygian blackness rising, creeping upwards, nearly reaching the level of the narrow passage where she was sitting down. The shadows slithered up to slowly devour the light shining on her face and cover up her lips that muttered over and over into the frightening emptiness lined with thickening creepy air. _Don't leave me here, just don't leave me here, Dante come back!_

_

* * *

_

_They got so far...yet...exactly just that...so far! There are still so many things that could go wrong..._

_Join me, to journey with our favourite twins till the end of my story which is coming rapidly! This means that there is so little time for you to say hello and I really would like so much to hear from you, no matter what you have to say, before it all comes to an end! So go on, what do you say...? Or am I undeserving of a few words? So far so few of you who read have responded!_

_Million humble bows, double that in heaps of cookies and triple that in buckets of gratitude to those who left me with reviews and therefore a sweet memory to remember forever! I hope I responded to everyone personally and didn't miss even one of you! :D _

_I am not sure if I will be able to write anymore. So be kind and rewind, ehem I mean review, overcome that thing that is stopping you to do so and help me to make this an experience to look back upon with great fondness and perhaps even one to return to. :D_

_Love you all,_

_Yours Tora (PS sorry for any mistakes, my Beta dropped off :-( and I am still in holiday mode after my holiday, so proud I still managed to post!)_


	26. The greatest wish Part1

**The greatest wish (Part1)**

Vergil followed his brother with a narrowed icy gaze, watching his brother's devil form fly over the whirring mass of darkness that spurted out from the deep oblivion below. The abhorrent concoction of living-dead would reach them by the time he would be coming back, with the girl on his shoulders, it would try and pull them both down to strip them of their souls that would be thrown into the inescapable desperation of the pits of the underworld.

He could almost hear the endless screams of those who had tried to cross the deadly chasm before them. Those that didn't posses the endurance and strength to fight back against the relentless, suffocating...dismembering, hate fuelled tentacles filling one's mind with utter desolation until an inevitable, collapsing surrender was the only conceivable end.

But Dante wasn't them, he wasn't just anyone. He had escaped their diabolical clutches before and he could prevail now, even with Vesta as a small added burden. He needn't worry about Dante, more though about his own health and mind, growing so desperate, restless and weak again, now that he was so close to both his goal and to the dark presence of hell's convoy of death.

He could hear their soundless wails, feel their prodding hollow eyes as their faces started to form, ogling him with cold-dead assured stares, mocking and channelling his growing weakness like live projections to the demon world. They would come knocking soon, like the bailiffs of Satan, with each visit becoming more and more aggressive and violent.

Vergil stared sternly at their blank faces, standing at the edge of the black crevice, his knee bent casually so that he could see below. Their maws were open wide as if screaming yet silent, reaching for his legs in vain, unable to slither past the liquid gold of the glowing sphere as he noticed. He was safe there, as creatures of the deepest darkness, they could not touch a source of pure light, though they could shadow its prominent brightness. Vergil lifted his eyes to glance at the distancing red devil's back, his own body already turning to the passage clad in molten gold, the passage that led to his ultimate deliverance.

Dante had begged him to wait for them, that he would not let Vergil go alone, not now that they were so close. He was going to get the girl and then they would all keep going till the end, together, he had said. Only Vergil couldn't wait, he could not even suppress the tremors that ransacked his body of all remaining calm.

His eyes had a hard time leaving Dante though, as his brother reached the girl, her ashen face flooding with colour of relief and sheer happiness. A smile so sincere, even for the devil himself, no disguise. There, he couldn't even save her himself, it could have been him on the receiving end, yet he couldn't do a thing without his power. He had to get there now, nothing else mattered...

Gritting his teeth, Vergil forced himself to tear his gaze from the returning couple and with a deeply quivering breath took a step into the mirror-like corridor.

_I walk the path, to extricate all that is unbearable from my existence. Oh soon, so very soon, the power to be free from self-loathing and disregard will be within my withering grasp, at last..._

The shadows swirled and swiped at them from all sides with viciousness he hadn't seen before. He nearly hadn't seen them coming as he stared at the entrance on the other side of the deep precipice, an entrance that was void of his brother. Vergil didn't wait. He went off on his own, selfishly chasing his power yet again. It was like an awful déjà vu that had brought back memories he never wanted to revisit. His moral sunk so low he didn't even know he could feel like that in his devil form, or in fact feel anything but an urge to kill.

Hearing Vesta's urgent prompts through the fog in his head he quickly shook off the grappling tentacles that were set on throwing him off balance and into the deep abyss below. More and more hurled themselves off the walls, rising from the black oblivion itself. The girl was kicking them off as fast as she could, her quietened gasps echoing through the hollows of the cave like the loudest of screams.

Coming into full lucid battle mode, Dante whipped out his red-charged guns and fired at an ugly as hell face that made it its mission to swallow his leg whole. Taking the full blast of the hit, the face became distorted for a while into a grisly shape, but then re-swirled into its original form and sank its viscous teeth viciously into Dante's scaly foot. Instantly, he felt his power oozing out of him, and the crimson slits of his eyes shot wide. If he couldn't sustain his devil form, they would both plunge to their horrible deaths instantly.

At that thought, he slammed his other foot like a sledgehammer into the hazy skull while balancing in the air, and managed to kick the living–daylights out of the living-dead foot sucker, merrily feeling the power drain out of him no more. But more were coming, swarming towards the duo like a flock of piranhas that smelled blood in water. Unlike in the lake at the mansion though, he couldn't go any higher here as they now flew near the cave's ceiling and going down was as good as a sheer suicide. His guns were no use here, each bullet passing through the slimy abominations like straw through butter; they did no damage at all, just like in the cursed lake.

Dante called Rebellion into his hand and began to slice and hack all that he could, yet his agility was very much hindered by Vesta clinging to his back for her life as the hellish ooze began to pull her down off his shoulders since he couldn't hack them well behind his back. Desperately trying to fend the unholy off, he found himself spinning in one spot in the air, unable to fly straight, his power slowly ebbing away.

They would soon be pulled down under and there was nothing he could do, the thought of dropping his female load never even touching his mind. He was the one who came back for her and he would go down with her...

Dante felt her slipping, his taloned feet now ensnared in a tight grip of the putrid slime, black hollow faces cutting into his flesh with their invisible, blackened teeth. At least if Vergil made it...

A bright flash blinded him and he threw his hands up to cover his face. He felt her slide down and entwine his waist with her shaking arms. He was still being pulled down but the speed had slackened. Another flash of light, and then another. Vesta clawed her way back up to his back, he arms reaching for his neck. His legs felt free and his wings sprang to action, one mighty flap after another.

The cave, it was as if it became lit up with fireworks, Dante didn't know what to think of it but all he could do was to focus on the edge of the sphere that was now thankfully a lot nearer. And there, through the explosions of golden dust and light he could finally see what had saved them and he took a while to believe his eyes.

It was Vergil, standing there all serious on the edge of the brightly glistening globe like some mighty prince of light, swiftly hacking off the massive crystallised spikes with the hunting knife, throwing them like glass javelins at the spawn of hell with deadly precision. Hunting the old fashioned way sure came handy, Dante thought nostalgically, speeding up to reach the golden cave before Vergil ran out of reachable weaponry.

"Verge, Verge, what took you so long!" Dante clicked his tongue and shook his head as he landed on the warm mirror-like surface while morphing into his human form. "I thought you have already departed to fetch your power!" He mouthed, but on the inside he couldn't have been happier that Vergil had seen sense and returned.

His older brother threw the last spear at an unfortunate hell's soul that burst with a shower of sparks into crystallised rain of slime, and then unfazed turned to face Dante. "What is the point of gaining power when you'd lose respect of those who you value the most," he said flatly, holding back the desperation in his voice by a thread. He had become so mentally dishevelled in this place he thought hanging out here any longer would turn him crazy for good. "_Now_ let's go and get my power. I really prefer my own weaponry to these makeshift contraptions," Vergil twirled the demonic dagger expertly between his fingers before tucking it behind his waist, then brushed a cloud of gold speckles from his hands and turning on his heels, set out back into the brightly lit corridor.

"Yeah, good thinking!" Dante agreed absentmindedly and threw his hand out, still staring at Vergil as if he was a ghost. He really didn't allow himself the thought that Vergil would come back, then again the old mutt always did care about respect and bad-ass image too much...

"And now we are even," Vergil added with his back to Dante, barely turning his head before resuming his stride and Dante knew this was Vergil's way of saying thanks for saving his life earlier on. It was after all exactly what he had expected, nothing more and nothing less; a gratitude in the form of a returned favour of an equal or greater magnitude.

"For now," Dante tossed out after Vergil's back, a cunning smile hiding the nervousness creeping into him. He knew very well that there would be plenty of opportunities for more returned favours, he just hoped they would not come too soon. Gesturing for Vesta, who appeared rather subdued and uneasy herself, to go ahead, Dante closed the group, watching out for anything or anyone that could sneak up on them from behind. He couldn't smell that bastard demon but he knew for sure that Aaron was there somewhere, hiding and waiting, and that had unnerved him to no end.

At least there seemed to be no more traps inside this glass cage buried in the mountain. It was clear that father didn't count with anyone, well at least not anyone human getting this far as all the previous 'rides in the Sparda theme park' would have meant a quick, or in the last case of the 'Oblivion Ride', a slow and horrific death.

Still this maze, made out of what resembled pure liquid amber, had him on high alert, Ivory drawn at the ready. It would be almost impossible to see an attack coming before it actually hit, the flowing mirror-like surface distorting every single image, making it hard to concentrate the eyes without going dizzy.

If it wasn't for the fact that he could constantly get a rewarding view of Vergil's head shrinking to a peanut and Vesta growing her ass and boobs after every twist and curve of the labyrinthine tunnel, he might as well close his eyes and rely purely on his senses.

What didn't help the matters was the much more potent odour of blood and power in the air, one that so unmistakeably belonged to the line of Mundus and though it no longer inspired him to vomit, it still drove him way too restless. Dante thought it must have been because Vesta now walked directly in front of him, and so he put in a special effort to blank it out, forcing himself to get used to it, no matter how repulsive he still found that scent. Besides telling a lady that she stunk wasn't exactly nice, not that there was much that she could have done with it anyway. Only strange was how it went in and out with her, as if it depended on which way the wind was blowing, but there was not even a light breeze in this place...

Dante's thoughts have been cut short by a sudden change in the layout and he noted to his dismay that everyone's body-parts have returned to normal. The trio arrived in what appeared to be a large circular room but here the walls were different; they were not reflective like in the corridors but more solid, like thick, slowly flowing lava only minus the matching heat. On closer look there was what appeared to be a door or a portal of some sort, its entrance sealed by a sheet of something liquid, resembling transparent jello through which slow ripples flowed in regular rhythm.

The smell was the strongest here though, and Dante nearly subconsciously pinched his nose, his eyes sweeping the amber room for what his senses were prompting him to shoot at and kill. The chamber however had nothing to offer par bare walls and a cold feeling; dear daddy had never warmed up to the human habit of pleasing decoration.

"Stay here," a curt dark order directed Dante to Vergil who stood by the pulsating door, inspecting it with reserved heedfulness. Vergil let his finger slip through the silky substance, observing his untouched digit as he pulled it back again, then slowly turned to the other two.

"This won't take long," Vergil assured them in a confident tone, sensing their disconcertment that he himself had the hardest time to suppress right then. Nothing felt right, nothing at all. He turned to the opening and was about to step through when he stopped and glanced back. "Just one more thing...keep an eye for Vesta's brother," he said casually, then he disappeared into the portal leaving behind a splashy clunk.

Dante stared hard after him, hands balling to rest on his hips, feeling Vesta do exactly the same. The air filled to the full with tense disbelief before either of them moved a muscle or even opened their mouth.

"A brother?" Dante was the first to react after a long while, his mouth left hanging open. _Aaron is her brother? Oh sure. Would you mind telling me that tiny little unimportant intel beforehand Verge?_ And he thought all this time it was her with the bad cologne! No wonder he had been so confused that he had felt it only sometimes even though she had been there the whole time...

"I have a brother?" Vesta proclaimed suddenly, a little bit too enthusiastically.

"Not for long!" Dante looked up, automatically whipping out Ebony to join her lighter twin he held already in his hand with a predatory grip. That nasty Mundus branded odour was everywhere! He was about to disclose very passionately how he was going to make a fire-in-the-hole in the demon's pie hole when a glance at her took him by surprise. The look on her face was an epitome of a dream, a dream of a family that was collapsing with the incomprehension creeping into her briefly hopeful countenance.

"What do you...oh!" Vesta caught on, the weary killer expression on Dante's face filling in the blanks. Aaron was he brother, she only had just found out, Vergil had known for some time and Dante now planned to kill him, and... "And...he is here...," she backed away from the walls, her horror filled eyes flickering across the vast space of the eerily empty cavern. But then, where the heck was he?

He stepped through the vapours of a dissipating haze into a space that had no boundaries, at least none at all he could see. Though his feet were touching the ground, he felt like he was floating in the air, weightless. All around was brilliant whiteness and nothing more, but as soon as he made a move forward the heavenly veil began to lift and crumble, revealing the true face of the place.

He was standing on a floating island in the middle of a desolate vast blackness drenched in brimstone soaked heat, flashes of red streaks shooting up from below to disturb its deadly velvet beauty. Majestic but barren pillars towered from the molten depths below to pierce the impenetrable dark above, carrying the chills of perpetual shrills and maddening, monotonous humming that anyone too sane would end up masking in vain by their own screams of imminent insanity. Like a very own private piece of hell...

"Sparda...," a distant yet omnipresent female voice spread through the infinite red-illuminated darkness with steel-cold elegance.

"Close. But no cigar," Vergil drawled, scowling guardedly, while his icy eyes scoured the ill-boding black void.

"Ah, Vergil, forgive my mistake," the regal voice echoed through the vastness, sharpening as if its owner had just been waking up. "I have not expected your presence no matter how much your father preferred to believe that one day you would come. He created this for you after all, and for Dante. Well, he _stole_ me from hell...," an ironic laughter cut the words but then the voice settled back to its calm silkiness, "...but I did not blame him really, since I never got any good clientele in the netherworld and after a while, sending those poor heartless souls to burn in the eternal pits below stopped being much fun...," a mirage of a beautiful face ten times larger than Vergil materialised amongst the molecules of darkness and large white eyes rolled, looking downwards.

A something, a breath of a touch grazed his shoulder just as the face vanished again, "a shame really, I would so loath if that was to happen to you...," the voice cooed, turning visious.

_Too late for that_, Vergil scoffed inwardly, his hard eyes searching for the spectral visage. "I have not come here for a sentimental chitchat," Vergil uttered with a hiss, shaking off the unpleasant feel of the ghostly hand from his shoulder. He really didn't appreciate this she-demon's unsubstantiated mockery, or her dubious past dealings with his father that were none of his concern. "Give me that which is mine. Now," he commanded in a low warning tone with a ready to die calm. _I am at the last end, nothing will stop me now..._

Darkly amused laughter filled the cavern. "Like father, like son; straight to the point," the evil spirit pouted, her mouth re-materialising first before her face as her invisible hand slowly withdrew from Vergil. "Very well, open your heart to me..._if_ you have one...," she said coldly, adding a note of maliciousness to her voice as her eyes rolled upwards again, the cold-white gleam from them spilling out to swallow the blackness once more.

Vergil remained stark still, feeling sudden foreign numbness enfold his body. The sense of weightlessness snapped out of existence and an immense gravity took over to bring him down. His knees folded first as he could not stay upright, his heart slowed down, as if being squeezed and constricted by an immense power. Eyes shutting close, he suppressed the horrific scream that tried to make its way out of his swelling throat, blood struggling to circulate as the diabolical pull dragged every cell across the bottom of his stretched out veins. At that very moment he almost wished he hadn't had a heart…

"Aaaah, the exquisite pain...so, you do have a heart after all," her sublime voice, silky smooth, coiled through his muted senses like the whisper of a reaper of death.

Couldn't have father brought something a little less heart-stopping as a souvenir from hell? Vergil's face was twisted beyond sickly when the unbearable pain ceased just as suddenly as it appeared, and a dead calm flashed across the sacred realm, quickly latching onto his soul.

Per the buzzing white fog dissipating in his head, he heard the crystal clear sound of long heels clapping on an uneven stone floor. It was as if he knew that sound from somewhere, a distant past echoing into his patchy memories, a feeling of utter ease that spread its wings throughout his endlessly shattered nerves. Was that it? Did they bring him his prize? Expectation kept his eyes shut tight as he waited for the familiar feeling...

But it wasn't coming. He didn't experience the glorifying effects of his power seep into his dying blood, didn't taste the comforting sensation of his beloved sword fall into his yearning hand. Where was his steel pride and cold grace, his life and soul, the missing part of his body, where was...his Yamato?

Instead, to his bewilderment, he felt a strange jolt and uplift in his chest, and he found his head rising heavily from the dusty ground, his eyes opening out of the wall of numbness that insisted on remaining. Still on his knees, sweat rolling slowly over his long eyelashes, Vergil managed to hold his gaze high, peering at the illusion that stood in front of his disbelieving eyes.

Was he never to get a break from these terrible visions and nightmares? Was it yet another trial, yet another way to be tested before his worthiness to a torture-free life was to be accepted? How long did he have to suffer even at the very end of his harrowing journey?

The wetness on his face became more profound but it never occurred to him that it couldn't have been all sweat as his eyes drew into a sharp focus to look upon her visage.

She was as beautiful as he had ever remembered, not the terribly scarred and frightful face that had been haunting his mind since she had died. Her familiar moonstone blue eyes shined with life, not eaten out and washed away by rancid black water, her hair flowing like a golden waterfall, not matted up and soiled with blood and dirty debris of the lake.

They remained unmoving, only a few long strands of her fine hair rising and falling together with her chest as she seemed to breathe, as if alive.

"Vergil...," her voice flowed, fresh and clear like spring water, not coarse and raspy like the one in his nightmares.

Still it could not be her, how was she to be here where no human could have survived for more than a few moments before a certain death? Even if she could have been real, why would he be seeing her instead of receiving his power?

"Come to me, my son," the beautiful blonde lifted her hands with a tremble and opened her arms to him.

Vergil remained glued to the stone floor as he spontaneously wiped at the dampness that lingered on the edge of his chin, his eyes blurring once more. He felt his chest clutch again, this time with a different kind of pain, a pain of a comfort and happiness he never thought he would get to feel again, and he knew. At that very moment he realised what had been granted to him, what had been unrightfully torn from his heart and what had lingered on his dying soul ever since the most; the denied farewell to his mother. And at that very moment he also knew that she was real, not some twisted illusion sent by hell to rip out his soul piece by piece, but a real being made of flesh and bones and she was standing right in front of him, waiting for him to fall into her open, warm embrace.

"Mother...," was all his lips could manage as he kept kneeling, his body unable to respond. He was drenched of the very last drop of willpower and fighting spirit, thrown to the mercy of a cruel binding sentiment.

The sheer mental exhaustion and bewildered speechlessness overflowing from every pore on his otherwise flawless face caused his mother to lower her arms in uncertainty, and the sound of her heels made the floor sing to him once more.

Slowly lifting his head to connect with her as she approached him in a gentle saunter, Vergil let her hands pull him close to her very much solid body as she used to do when he was only six. The same warmth and sense of safety enveloped him as it had done in the long past. Strange how a devil could feel safe in the arms of a fragile human, perhaps he was as powerless now as he had been then.

"I always knew you'd come, I have waited for so long," her pure angelic, longing voice sailed through the air on a tear that descended onto his lifted, pale face. He didn't attempt to wipe it off, too engrossed in the sublime view of her lightsome and undisturbed visage. It was as if he was looking at his mother, Eva, in the brightest light, as she was nearly twenty years ago, as she should have been now, not losing one year of age.

His eyes pouring shards of his heart to her, Vergil stammered, unable to construct a proper response, "I...I have tried my best."

Her hands slid from Vergil's hard adult back lovingly and rested on his broad shoulders, while her proud eyes never wandered from his father's handsome resemblance. "You should have come to Dante, he always wanted to help you so much..."

"Mother please!" he scolded her in a desperate, pleading tone. "Do not drain me of the last strength I have left. The sins of my past may neither be forgotten nor forgiven, but I have seen the light and have strayed from my father's unwise path. I only ask for you to forgive me that it has taken me so long," he at last found himself lifting his arms and placing his hands on hers, a real warmth seeping into his cold skin.

Silence gripped them as she parted her lips emptily, words uneasy to come as the bitter pain billowed in her beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, she took his hand and began to pull him up to stand in front of her. "Don't you kneel before me Vergil. It is I who should falter under the weight of sorrow and regret. It was I who has sent your father away...," Eva paused, her hand quaking from what laid on her chest, seeing the utter incomprehension bloom on Vergil's face as he shook his head in firm denial.

"He...he wanted to stay but I sent him away. I was afraid...afraid that he would hurt you both, that he would kill me and chain your innocent souls to hell..."

"He would never!" Vergil snapped in sudden explosive refusal, his hand letting go of hers in a start as if she was set on fire.

"I know that now," Eva hurried to explain, her eyes slipping from his accusing icebergs as she could not bear to look at his angered, desolate face, her voice dipping to a whisper, "but I didn't then. He became so violent, so unpredictable, so frightening..."

"You should have known! He would never hurt you!" Vergil seethed, not hearing the uncertainty in his own voice, his hands flying up to cover her slender neck, nails ready to tear the tender flesh to pieces. "_I_ would never!" he yelled and his eyes shot wide at the expression of silent terror masked by confident yet sad defiance that flooded her face.

He instantly let go, looking in horror at his shaking hands that nearly drew blood from his mother's neck.

A calming hand descended on his burning cheek and a smooth fingertip slid down his reddened skin. "Do not make the same mistake I did Vergil, do not be afraid," she enfolded his quaking hands and guided them to the centre of his chest. "Trust in your human heart, Vergil. Accept and embrace the good in your life, no matter how hard you have to fight for it. Do not drive them away...like I did your father..."

"T-them?" surprise registered in his lowered, still shaking voice, the willingness to forgive or understand swarming in chaos on the edges of his mind.

"The ones closest to you, devil or human, even if they are the offspring of an enemy," a small smile played on her paler face, one that would always make him forget about the worst in the world. How could he not forgive that honest, sincere, soul warming smile? After all, he knew what had laid on his heart the most and now he had the chance to prove that he had been right...

Quickly forgetting his close call that didn't come far from proving his mother right, Vergil refocused his mind to a single goal. After all, his time was scarce and he would not get another chance. "Tell me...tell me where you are. Are you in hell?" his voice faltered as he partially held his breath, asking the question that he so many times refused to commit to an answer. And now, his jaw trembled from the possible truth. How could he cope if he had been lying to himself all these desperate years? Perhaps he shouldn't have asked her at all.

Her finger followed a slow trail to his chin where it lingered gently. "Oh, my dear boy, I am indeed in a very warm place but hell it is not. I am in your hearts, in yours and Dante's. And I would beg your forgiveness so that I may stay there...forever. Will you do that for me Vergil, will you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive," Vergil said with some hesitance, still mulling over his mother's answer that didn't quite satisfy his need for reconciliation. He didn't understand what it all meant although at the same time he was confident that the real her wouldn't lie to him. And this _Eva_ _was_ real...

Her hand brushed along his neck, then withdrew from his comforting closeness and began to dissipate into the surrounding whiteness. "Then...goodbye my dear son. You have made your mother so proud," she said confidently, yet her eyes betrayed the heartbreaking sadness that she felt knowing she will never see her son again, just as he would never see her.

"No! Wait! This is not enough! You have not told me enough!" Vergil yelled and reached for her ebony arm but that part of her trickled away, tiny particles of pale mist spilling into nothingness that he had no control of. Anger gripped him hard and he tried to swipe at her as she floated away but his arms only passed through the milky air and he tripped, falling roughly onto all fours.

Vergil quickly whipped his head up to find her again but she was nowhere to be seen. The empty void enclosed on him and he felt a rage that he had never experienced before entangle in his every nerve. Spinning about like a mad man from one side to the other, stumbling around in the confusing white veil, his eyes flickering deep red as he searched frantically but in vain for his mother that had been made real only too briefly for his hopelessly long and unanticipated wait.

"Come back! This is _not_ enough! I need you!" Vergil roared as he folded to the cold stone surface, his fist pounding manically into the ragged floor until blood began to splatter from his broken skin and mangled flesh. "I need you!" he let out finally all out of breath, voice catching in his throat as he tried to draw in air in deep amounts, his mouth open in a sudden struggle for breath, face drenched in wetness that mingled with his free flowing saliva and dripped down to the stone-cold floor.

Down on his knees, Vergil trembled from incomprehension and coldness that had spread all around him, his chest heaving rapidly, mind rejecting in vain the bitter irony that had been following him like the blackest shadow ever since he had seen his mother violated and murdered at the hands of his future worst enemy. Now she was gone, gone forever and he still remained frozen, dead to the world as he had been before...

Suddenly he stilled, looking down with his hardening moonstone eyes, his hand jerking up to clutch at his chest as it began to feel very strange. But it wasn't pain he was feeling seeping into his heart, it was a life of some sort, an energy, a glowing warmness that enveloped him like the brightest light, one that he had been missing or shutting away all this time.

His breathing slowed down to a peaceful rhythm, and he wiped at his mouth and nose with his sleeve, rubbing out the last remains of his desperate outburst from his puffy face. Calmness settling into his soul as if an invisible force entered him and seeded strength into his body, Vergil flexed the muscles on his arms, nails scraping across the stone as his hand gathered into a tight fist. His heart as steady as he used to remember, at that very moment he felt empowerment that even his devil power could not have bestowed upon him.

_I know it's you... I knew...knew you would not lie to me...and...now... I truly know where you are..._

His soul breathed out a breath of absolute atonement. Hand pressed tight to his chest, Vergil got to his feet, stern face rising to reach his full height. The thick white fog vanished around him as if a giant eye was closed and the blackness streaked with hellish fires returned once more. He stood still and briefly closed his eyes.

"Goodbye mother," Vergil murmured softly and his ice-blue orbs opened to meet the darkness-painted face of the demon spirit.

"Your wrong has been righted. Now leave as you cannot come to claim another again, only to fall to your death below should you do so," the demoness commanded strictly, yet underneath, her expressionless face was barely restrained from grinning like a child receiving the best candy from a store. Vergil nodded curtly, suppressing his own smirk that was tugging at the corners of his lips. He surmised that it must have been a while since the evil spirit got her chance to fulfil a desire as undemonly as his, and she might not get another one like this again.

He didn't need his power, he didn't need Yamato to be whole, to feel whole. He was given a gift that was far above all, a gift of eternal peace in his own soul, a soul now so strong that no one now would be able to break or enslave him, not even hell. Just like Dante's...

"You can keep your tricks, I hold no fancy to have my most private matters put on a public display like this ever again, no matter how discrete the hostess may be," Vergil smirked evilly giving a curtly bow, then glanced about the place with his legendary impassiveness that latched onto him like a second skin again.

"This is all...confidential of course...," the spirit acknowledged in a drawl in a business like voice that held a note of fondness, a new development since he set his foot in this place as Vergil duly noted. Then she started to leave but turned back just enough to show her lip rising into a miniscule smile as she spoke less formally, "I can make a rare exception of course, and render any subsequent visits a lot less painful. I do miss a good chat after all...," she said in a lower voice, giving him a suggestive wink, and then puffed into the brimstone drenched air.

Vergil stared after her in silent 'calm indifference and after a short passing moment he turned with a slight wiggle of one eyebrow and an absent 'hmpf', readying to step back through the watery portal...

"Yep, we are screwed. We are so very screwed," Dante tapped his finger on the steel of his gun's barrel with a calm rhythm thoughtfully, looking dead ahead at the quiet portal, its ripples flowing annoyingly slow across its gelatinous-like surface.

"Won't he come out all...you know...different?" Vesta whispered wonderingly out of the corner of her tightly pressed mouth, leaning as close to Dante as she possibly could, given the circumstances.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I am worried about, then he will be able to _actually_ kill me," Dante gave an unnerved snort, his eyes briefly refocusing on the thick bar of light burning so sharply in front of him, before resuming his distant gaze at the floating door.

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't see it coming, and...he just might surprise you," she said confidently with an unconvincing enough undertone to make him want to smile. He couldn't help but admire her ability to somehow dig out the positive even in the most negative situations. Quite a talent, one he himself used to have but with time it seemed to have rather diminished...

Keeping up his confidence, Dante swiped at his nose casually with the back of his hand and mumbled, "you might have something there babe, huh, surprise...," he covered the smirk that the long drawn memories have brought to him. "T_hat_ he never disappointed to deliver," his cockiness vanished though as soon as the portal began to ripple in a completely different way and he knew what, or rather who, was about to come through...

* * *

_Now the truth guys, did anyone expect that? Bwahawaaaaa! *stroking pure-white cat while looking very evil* Vergil is yet again Yamato-less, although he did get something else in return. Awww. But how will he now get past what is lurking upon his return?_

_Well, stick to my review guide and you might just find out! *super evil laughter*_

_Thanks so much guys for your lovely comments, and please do review as I am rapidly losing the will to update! Here is one LAST 3-easy-steps review guide for you (sniff):_

_1) After recovering from the shock of Vergil yet again NOT getting Yamato, press the Review button with your nose, as it's time for some exercise! You do want to look like Vergil right? And you have been sitting way too long reading DMC stories! Aha, don't deny it!_

_2) Now then, position your reading machine on the floor, right under your face and position yourself for some awesome push-ups, you all know how to do those right? *PMs accepted for friendly advice – wink*_

_3) What now? Well, get to it! And to do it properly, every time your nose descends, it must write a letter in the review. So the longer the review the more push-ups you did – and I will know! Mwahahahaaaaa! I am so evil! Aaah._

_See ya!_

_PS: Many many thanks to Sinny and Nessa whom I cannot respond personally, you guys made my day with your awesome reviews!_


	27. The greatest wish Part 2

**The greatest wish (Part 2)**

The ripples of the demonic seal washed over him like a welcoming caress of cold water, soothing the inflamed skin on his face that he lifted ever so slightly to get the full benefit as he passed through the portal. The searing hotness in the realm of the ancient spirit compounded to the reddened glow his brief but rampant emotions had brought him and he didn't feel like having his emotional state paraded any more than necessary. It would have been enough of an effort to resist the humiliation to have come out empty handed despite the sense of another, quite a different kind of power surging so confidently in his nearly human veins.

Satisfied that his look was sufficiently hard and cold, Vergil straightened out his poise and stepped out of the liquid gateway, only to halt dead in his tracks as soon as he cleared the sealing substance.

Vergil swallowed the bile that formed so instantly in his throat, struggling hard to hold onto his freshly regained composure. On the outside at least, he managed to remain expressionless, narrowing eyes dead set on the scene before him. Completely motionless for what seemed like a long while, holding his breath as if not to shatter the calm that he accomplished to maintain, his eyes took a scanning sweep of the surroundings before settling on the duo before him.

He saw Dante, waiting, his breath on halt, anticipating a reaction from his older brother like a naughty child that was about to be scolded. Vesta, biting her lip with a deepening worry as her eyes strayed to Vergil's empty hands. She then glanced at Dante through the golden bars with a pained look before returning her gaze to Vergil. She tried to appear defiant but he could tell that it was only a mask to cover up her inward fear and despondence. Vergil noticed neither of them were touching the glowing bars, the signs of healing deep burns already diminishing from the skin on their hands.

They were trapped, caught in a tight embrace of two cages constructed of pure molten sun, cages that could have only been spun in hell, by a very certain demon; a demon, whose presence had yet to be revealed.

Vergil scowled almost invisibly, his mind reeling into myriad of calculations of scenarios that he could have played though had he been at full power; but this time, he simply had to act like it...just like he had done so many times before.

Seemingly unfazed and as cold-blooded as ever before, Vergil entered killer mode and stepped forward with hard set resolution. Eyes scouring the seemingly empty ceiling and walls, his hand began to reach stealthily for the dagger that lay hidden in the folds of his long blue trench. The scum had said it couldn't hurt him but Vergil was always more than willing to try it for himself...

Still it annoyed him to no end how he could, no correction, how they both could have missed the demon's exact location or the trap that the scum so skilfully managed to drop on Dante. Vesta did not possess the experience but Dante, he would have been too difficult to surprise. No opponent was this good, to fool both of the Sparda brothers, especially since they have been expecting him. Not to mention, where in the name of all hell _was_ that bastard? There was nowhere to hide in this smooth, sleek, oval space…

One foot slowly moving in front of the other whilst one hand gripped the nine inch hunter knife, Vergil advanced ahead sideways, arctic eyes gradually focusing on a spot on the amber ceiling that seemed to have begun to shift.

Vergil paused, his head tilting upwards, mouth parting ever so slightly at the sight of the surface of the glass-like cave that started to slither and crawl, sliding like a liquid inferno to gather in a single spot, right above the amber cages.

Soon enough, in the space of a few seconds, the liquid blob grew to the size of a large man, dropping to the floor, Vergil's cautious hard eyes following its fall. Like a statue of a mighty god, the golden shape then began to solidify, harden into a pose of an assured arrogance, carried by a demon who stood fully clothed and in his all mighty glory, blonde hair framing his face perfectly, malicious smirk adding to the feel of smug superiority.

So, that's why no one had seen the illusive bastard, he had been busy plastering the walls... Slowly letting go of the silver hilt, Vergil withdrew his hand from the dagger, straightening to face Aaron with an equal prerogative.

Their eyes fixed on one another in a deadly standoff, neither was willing to make the first move. Good, that is what Vergil was best at; intimidating patience and hard, testing glares. Inwardly, he let his mind ease, welcoming the added time to think things through while searching his opponent's eyes for anything he could use against him.

An eternity must have passed, when Aaron's deep blue eyes suddenly swayed downward, noting with irritation the lack of any weapon in Vergil's hand. His orbs flickered hellish wrath as he turned them back to Vergil and caught his equally formidable eyes with an annoyed surprise. "Where is Yamato," he hissed in a deeply intolerant tone.

Vergil held the demon's hard gaze for a long moment, before dipping his eyes downward lazily as if to look for the said item, then he levelled his ice-laced blues back on Aaron with an undisturbed stare. "I don't have it," Vergil enlightened the demon in an innocently bland tone, one that would test the patience of even the hardest man.

"I can see that!" Aaron exploded, his fists balling by his side. _Jackpot_, Vergil assessed quickly, pleased at the heated reaction. The fool was way too easy to dishevel, and he had not even had the pleasure of dealing with Dante. He was heading for one big surprise, Vergil noted duly, even though Aaron quickly recovered, his hands stretching out as he forced himself to calm down.

A ghost of a devilish smirk grew secretly on Vergil's lips. He felt the admiration mixed with befuddlement seep away from the nearby cages, and the silent hesitance on Aaron's part, and Vergil knew his deception was set in place, that he was still the master. The crystal wall encasement played even more in his favour, somewhat masking the lack of power that should have been oozing out of him a plenty. As long as the demon thought he indeed did reacquire Yamato, they all would have been much safer, at least for now.

"Then where is it!" the demon uttered in a harsh tone, his hand twitching, resisting to his Vergil hard across his amusement stroke face. Instead, he proceeded to rub his chin as he continued, sure to match his amusement to Vergil's, "If I am guessing right, I do not need to enlighten you on what would happen to your little companions should you fail to deliver me the sword?"

Vergil cast one eye on the golden prison, picking up the itch from the free floating bars of searing-hot fire that could enclose in on Vesta and Dante any passing moment, reducing them to chard, smouldering corpses in definitely more than two pieces.

Making sure he remained unreadable, Vergil moved his eye back to Aaron and informed him in a flat, dark voice, "I have left it well hidden, and...if I am guessing right, I do not need to enlighten you what would happen if you burned even a single hair on my companions' skin?"

Taken by surprise, Aaron resorted to nodding his head absently, and he licked his lips hesitantly before lifting one eyebrow at Vergil. "Then perhaps, we could come to some mutual understanding. Let's say that I will restrain myself from harming your pitiful sidekicks if you tell me where Yamato is."

"Who are you calling pitiful you cowering overcharred marshmallow, I don't recall having a one to one with you but I would bet my huge privates I could teach you a thing or two about the true meaning of pity," Dante bulged out his eyes like a mad man in offense, Ivory dancing loosely in his hand as he chance-aimed it at the demon, square at his ugly skull.

Aaron whipped his head round, his skin catching on fire as he narrowed his flaming eyes at Dante. He was about to retort in a heat of rising fury when a subtle cough turned his disturbed attention back to Vergil. The half-devil in blue withdrew his hand from his mouth, finishing suppressing a chuckle that had threatened to surface as Dante didn't disappoint to deliver.

"I can see that _restraint_ is not one of your fortes," Vergil began crisply. "Therefore I would urge you to reconsider your pointless offer, and let them both go. Only then would I even consider releasing Yamato to you," Vergil suggested flatly, his impassive demeanour throwing the demon into a suspensive dilemma as he licked his burning lips to extinguish the still dancing flames.

After a moment of silence, a streak of gold passed through the demon's eyes as he took a glance at the still pair in the ghoulish cages blazing with crackling liquid flames. Vergil grasped his chance of Aaron's distraction and sent a meaningful glare to Dante, one that they had so rarely used to exchange when they were young, one that assured Dante that his aberrant, complementing skills were more than counted on. Dante's confident returned nod was all Vergil needed to start putting his makeshift plan in motion, plan that was based on too many volatile assumptions to his liking, like the one that Aaron was running out of patience...

"I will let one of them out," the devil conceded suddenly with a hint of a sneer as he turned back to Vergil. "The bitch goes, your brother stays...until Yamato's power belongs to me," his eyes contained the darkest malice at that very moment and it set Vergil on high alert. The fiery demon had been dead determined to kill her ever since the scum had destroyed his mansion, why would he want to let her go now? The simplest answer being; he didn't. And he only needed one hostage…

Vergil grunted inwardly in displeasure as he watched the demon enter a brief spasm and the bars of white-hot fire sizzled away from Vesta, the girl now free and unsure of what to do. She remained still, her eyes drifting towards Vergil to seek guidance, resisting hard foolishly attacking her estranged brother and gouging his eyes out, then asking him why he was being such an incredible asshole.

"So, where is that wretched sword of yours," Aaron spat impatiently, ignoring Vesta as if she wasn't there. Vergil didn't miss however the way the tension in the demon-lord grew and turned a much darker shade, one that promised nothing but unholy and ruthless intentions.

Retaining his icy calm, Vergil gestured with one finger for Vesta to come forth, meanwhile keeping Aaron's attention on the seeming whereabouts of his priceless katana. "Regaining my power, I have sensed your treachery even from that empty darkness of the damned realm; I have entrusted my dearest possession to the guarding spirit from which you are free to reclaim it as soon as both of my companions have been set free," Vergil chose his words carefully, lies being strictly against his code of honour. A little twist here and there to aid his goal was more than acceptable though; he did after all entrust his dearest possession to the demoness; his private-most feelings.

Misleading speeches and withholding the truth had simply became a way of life for him just as dealing with volatile, belly-crawling snakes in even more volatile, danger riddled situations, and secretly he relished every moment, yet the customary worry for Dante still pressed hard at the back of his mind.

Another glance to Dante followed when Aaron traced his eyes to Vesta's retreating back, Vergil prodding his twin for a way out of the deadly prison that twitched with its sickly desire to crush Dante to bone dust and red-hot ash. The answer was a short sharp shake of his head, a dark sign he had no chance of escaping himself, even his devil being held on a leash by the draining, blistering effects of the highly charged demonic energy surging all around him from that darn cave.

Vesta slowly progressed to where Vergil was standing, daring not to make a move too fast as she stared into Vergil's deep, unwavering blue eyes as she glided toward him. His eyed were telling her that she would be safe, once by his side, a promise that she secretly believed in, even though they both knew too well that happy endings were for the fairytales; his abnormally tense countenance had told as much.

Vergil didn't attribute too much weight to his plan, instead taking every passing second as a compass to steer his actions, even him not believing he could be fooling her brother for much longer... Only how soon would his plan crush to pieces, he didn't dare to predict. Still, he would find out sooner than he had hoped…

"You think me a fool? I have been there!" the devil said icily and gestured heatedly to the glass surface of the portal with his outstretched hand, starting to follow Vesta in raging pace. "I have stood before that useless, so called sorceress, the bitch didn't like my little emptied heart, so she tried to throw me to the pits of hell! Which would have been fine by me…," a dark sneer played across his perfect face, Vergil inching his hand behind his waist to feel the coolness of the silver dagger.

Aaron's face twisted into an ominous frown as he continued, "…only she had to throw in my face why I couldn't have what I wanted. She had to _laugh_ and tell me that the reign belonged to this little wench!" he caught up with Vesta and yanked her back by her arm, Vergil freezing instantly. "Maybe I should send _her_ to get it," he stuck out his tongue wickedly, its slimy tip close to Vesta's reddening ear.

Vergil's rigid face hardened even more and he took a step forward, his grip on the demonic knife securing behind his back. Vesta's eyes never strayed from his, she was looking square at the promise of death that Vergil's whole demeanour carried at that very moment, his pretence evilness disguising the innocence in his soul, unlike the other's she had known who so shamelessly tried to disguise their evilness under the pretence of innocence.

"I don't want your fucking reign, you can shove it up your big ass, it will fit for sure!" Vesta yelled in frustrated annoyance, blinded by fear and anger, wrenching her arm from the demon's solid grasp, unaware of where she was finding her courage from.

"I meant the sword you pointless little minx!" Aaron snatched her arm back, this time a lot harsher and she bit her tongue at the pain that shot through her.

"She is going nowhere!" Vergil said crisply, now a few paces away from the fighting siblings, his voice could send hell into a permanent ice age.

"One more step and your pathetic pet fries in hell!" The demon's arm shot toward her neck in a blur of motion, and a magnificent golden katana grew out of his hand, cutting shallowly into the porcelain skin on her gullet.

Vesta swallowed hard and Vergil stilled like a dark shadow of a ghost. He felt Dante's deep frustration as it was his own, his brother yearning to rip out the molten gold prison bars with his bare hands and tighten them around Aaron's neck until his eyes would pop out of his damned ugly skull. Vergil planned to perform even more ghoulish deed on the soon to be dead demon in his mind, but first he had to make sure Vesta would be nowhere near when he unleashed the long dormant human wrath that started to surface from every one of his pores. Mother's blood had not been so innocent after all. Only how far he could take it, he had no idea…

"You think I am stupid? There is no Yamato, is there," Vesta's brother said out of the blue in a low, menacing tone, the robin blue of his eyes gaining a red tinged background.

"As much as I am utterly blown away, I must admit you are not as dense as you appear to be," Vergil's eyes measured the demon's thick golden hide with disgust, "still I am intrigued...how a demon as mighty as you claim to be, resorted to petty thieving and had to take a woman hostage to achieve it," he spat out in dark disdain.

"Petty theft? She is the one that stole the throne from me!" Aaron fumed out of control, his eyes ready to hurl fireballs at Vergil, his concentration taken solely by the half-devil in blue. Then his tone dropped by a few decibels to a sinister low, "I was going to force you to give me Yamato when your full strength returned but now you made it so much easier for me. I was going to kill the girl as soon as I knew you were heading just where I needed you to like a god obedient dog, after all how could I have known you would grow fond of a bastard offspring of your mother's killer," he ended up with a horrible, twisted sneer.

Remaining completely unfazed as this was all old and washed news, Vergil returned in an even, collected voice, "true, nothing like a misguided jealousy, after all it must have been unbearably demeaning to have been banished for challenging your own father, and _failing _miserably, thrown close to powerless into the hated world of puny humans instead of taking the stand as the all-mighty ruler of all hell. Or was it the mere fact that you failed to murder your dear papa and had to watch a mere half-breed to finish the dirty deed for you...right Arawn?"

Thrown of his tracks, Aaron unknowingly loosened up his hold on Vesta, his entire body readying to tear Vergil apart. His eyes slanted in heating up rage, Aaron's voice became that of a cold-blooded murderer as he spoke mockingly. "Well, you sure know a lot about me, even my real name, but...," he swiped at his mouth spontaneously to wipe off the drip of molten-gold foam that began to form there, then continued, voice heavy with sheer hate, "...but you forget one thing. I have nothing to lose now and I most certainly have no reason to keep any of you alive. How about I start with your dear brother!"

The demon's deep red eyes spasmed rapidly as if he fell into a fit, and the already claustrophobic cage burning around Dante began to shrink, the deadly aflame rods closing in on the red clad half-devil faster than he could blink, not that he even did.

The split second letdown in concentration on the demon's part however was all Vergil needed to pry the dagger from behind his waist and hurl it at the closing prison. The demonic knife flared bright yellow-orange, slicing through the sizzling inferno like it was butter, melting the entrapping bars into a shower of tiny sparks that hissed out into empty air. Dante's wide eyes squinted at the rage of fire that had been just an inch away from him, about to incinerate him to a martyr of black charcoal.

Acting with equal haste, as if in a white fuzzy dream, Vesta elbowed her half brother hard into the loin, and detached herself from the demon's loosened hold, darting like mad off towards Vergil. Having no idea what to do in a room so empty, with no sticks or bokens to thrash around, she just needed to be near him, as if he could give her the much lacking strength, and tell her in a space of a few seconds how to use her powers to kill her maddened brother. She should have listened to Dante, to learn how to be a devil. Now, they could all die, because of her righteous, stubborn foolishness...

Sprinting to the blue devil that looked so human, her saddened eyes conveyed her regret when her step faltered and she felt an immense heat spreading through her chest. Vesta stumbled, head bowing as she watched the blood spurt out of her breasts, and she fell into his supportive arms.

"This changes nothing! You are still all going to die!" the demon lord yelled, pulling out the full length of Rebellion from his own body without a blink, Dante standing close by with an outstretched hand to recall his sword, already readying to impale the bastard's shining skull next.

Breath heavy, Vesta was clutching her freely bleeding chest, wincing from the soaring pain. Leaning deeper into Vergil's warm nape, she barely whispered, panting softly, "I guess...I fell back to the...completely useless...category." Vergil felt the small smile form on her lips as they parted against his skin. "I thought I could...that I could help...but I just can't seem to...do it..."

He let her gently fall to the magically specked amber ground, holding her close to him while breathing out a whisper near her ear so that she would hear and no one else. "No, you don't _need_ to do this, this is something for me and Dante to finish. You just...stay alive." _This was my greatest, conscious wish after all._ Vergil added mentally as he let go of her, turning with an expression of a god of ice that declared a war to Arawn, the descendant of the prince of darkness.

"Hey bro, is she all right? Cause I can make a jammy marmalade out if this honey-sucker if he hurt her!" came Dante's worried yet confident yell from across the polished cave and it placed a hint of a smile on Vergil's grimly pressed lips. He could always count on getting a moral boost from Dante when he needed it most...

"Indeed, he hurt her badly," Vergil drawled in a cruel sneer, and took off at high speed to the now pulsing and liquefying devil, Dante making him busy by testing different parts of Arawn's body for suitable piercings while dodging incoming balls of fire.

Dante's taunting chitchat won the son of Mundus' undivided attention just as Vergil had hoped and predicted, allowing him to drop in on him, literally, and undetected. Hauling his body in full force, his boots connected with the demon's face, splattering it into the nearby wall, Arawn's body dissolving right after.

Vergil landed gracefully on his feet, eyes shooting up to the darker shade of amber that began to traverse creepily across the surface of the cave to the ceiling.

"Now, that's what I call marmalade!" Dante came running to his older brother, gleaming. "Just like we used to make it, hey? Too bad, I was just warming up," he made a 'phew' sound as he pulled on his red shirt and cracked his knuckles, sword slipping into its makeshift sheath on his back.

"Don't be hasty brother, it will start to get hotter soon enough," Vergil followed the growing shadow with his stark eyes, watching it creep in Vesta's direction...

"Get to the girl, now!" the older twin commanded sharply, Dante needing no incitement as he too spotted the chilling shape crawling maliciously over the glowing cavern's walls.

Vesta was still lying on the floor, deeply immobile, her head bowed down, the attack of her brother seemingly taking a lot more out of her than her freshly awoken demonic healing could have coped with. This was usual, Vergil thought as he sped across the room selflessly; she was not used to the demon blood rushing in to overcome her normal human defences, it would take her a while to get used to, just like it had done to them when they had been young.

Still the recognition of his own mortal danger never registered as Vergil screeched across the floor, rolling away from the powerful beam of light bright as the sun itself, barely carving a neat groove across the hard, magic infused amber-like ground, yet throwing the two half-devils like ragdolls across the unearthly chamber, Rebellion clattering out of Dante's big hands as he had drawn it swiftly just a second ago.

Sinister laughter resounded through the splendour of the ancient cavern, followed by a golden statue moulding from the smooth ceiling into a shape of a man that landed slowly in between the briefly stunned devil twins.

"Did you think you could kill me so easily? I _am_ after all the future king of hell!" The devil proclaimed haughtily, his chin rising as a thick, flowing golden garb expanded out of his clothing and his blonde hair prolonged like the lazy the rays of an autumn sun, both touching the ground. He lifted his hand, a ball as large and luminous as a golden apple forming and swirling in the flat of his palm.

Deeply unimpressed, Dante lifted his gun, shooting a hailstorm of bullets at the demon's annoyingly cascading hair. "Well then, allow me to give you a haircut your _majesty_," he said mockingly, his whirlwind of gunfire messing up the lord's imposing mane. Aware it would not actually hurt him, Dante aimed to divert the trollop's attention from Vergil to give his brother a chance to recover from the hard and awkward fall; attention being as fleeting as the douche-bag's illusive claims of might and all...

And it worked. The short-fused demon aimed at Dante, hurling the bolt of energy with a snarling hiss, Vergil meanwhile getting up groggily, clutching his ribs in obvious pain. Forfeiting to roll his eyes at his twin's annoying stubbornness, thought Dante could not really talk there, he grabbed Rebellion in a blur of a movement and deflected the incoming charge to bounce it harmlessly off the chamber's indestructible walls.

"Bah! Didn't like my hair cutting service? Then how about just a cutting service instead?" Dante flipped to his feet nimbly, hand dipping behind his back to whip out his custom designed guns that he tossed at Vergil's direction while shooting off towards the self-proclaimed king with the speed of a bullet.

Knowing just what to do, Vergil caught both guns in a graceful twirl and with a flare of his trench he span, the pistols instantly reaping havoc on the demon's garbs and body, while Dante charged with his sword, slicing and cleaving the quickly perforated devil flesh into a mash of mango chutney.

The monstrous mass of gold pulsated furiously and dissolved into its fluid form, the hair like tentacles rising towards the ceiling of the cave, pumping the molten metal-like substance into the top wall with a horrific shrill.

"Screw that wretched wall-slinking jar of custard, how does he do that!" Dante voiced his annoyance, his keepsake firmly in both hands as he backed away from the centre of the room.

Guns drawn at the ready, Vergil stepped forward cautiously, eyeing the quietened surface of the cavern. "He is using the condensed demonic energy from the chamber to fuel his powers. It could go like this forever," the older brother said grimly.

"Ain't you kidding! And it's crapping up _my_ power!" Dante made his grievance known, his eyes and aim darting to a spot that seemed to have moved. He dived away at the instant two bolts of fire shot in his direction, rolling over his hips to avoid being lasered in half, and getting back to his feet easily.

"Quite so, father didn't want us to transition to our demon forms and doing so, obscure the fact that we do indeed possess a human heart," Vergil dodged another set of fiery shots, a second too late for the last, landing back on his feet with his coat on fire. He quickly put it away with his hands, burning them in the process, and readied himself for another attack with an expressionless face as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah, good thinking!" Dante proclaimed wryly, throwing his hands into the air disbelievingly as he hadn't understood the meaning. But right now, there was no time for explanations. So he settled on a simple question. "So we are screwed?"

"Quite so," Vergil didn't hesitate to affirm, his attention stolen by the centre of the ceiling that began to stir, a daredevil of flames forming rapidly from the bubbling shadow that swelled aberrantly from within the core of the amber-speckled stonework. He could already taste it, breath the sun-born heat that invaded his throat and started to burn so intensely…

"Stop saying that!" Dante snapped over the closing curtain of fire, the desperation of the situation starting to affect him.

"Quite so," Vergil coughed out offhandedly, clutching his burning throat, watching the sinister inferno quickly engulf the entire top of the cave. It nearly mesmerised him, was it not for the sharp glint that caught the corner of his eye. Hastily snapping out of it, he made a few strides to the shiny object lying so ostentatiously on the polished floor. It was Vesta's dagger. Perhaps, this could make some difference...after all, he had wanted to try it out...

"You are all going to die!" a mighty rumble resounded around them, hissing over the crackling sounds of reaching, lashing flames.

"Yes, we heard you!" The twins both shouted in unison without bothering to locate the source, instead focusing on finding a way out, while keeping a back eye on the growing swells on the walls that spat out deadly blasts of fire that got larger and larger each time.

They were trapped, and they both knew it, both felt it. Leaving the cave was not an easy option, as only two of them could possibly make it out across the hellish chasm and survive, the third destined to die at the hands of the demon, and to their mental agreement that was not going to happen.

At least the girl was staying out of the way, Vergil for one was thankful. Although she could have possibly helped greatly, her inexperience and undiscovered skills could have proven to be more than detrimental.

Through a whirring column of fire Vergil afforded a glance in her direction just as she looked back at him, her beautiful eyes unblinking with resignation, conveying warmth far deeper than the inferno raging all around them. Through the hot, burning flames, like bell-fires of hell, he looked like a true devil. Yet in her eyes, as a tear rolled down from them, she had not met anyone more selfless and heroic than him…

Her turn…

Her jaw setting in a hard clinch, Vesta swallowed the fear-filled dread that wrapped around her throat and stomach, and slowly, unwillingly turned her head away from his intense, drowning gaze. Ignoring the shakes of terror that consumed her body, she eyed the seemingly cool surface of the portal that flowed so peacefully not far from her and started to crawl towards it.

He didn't see her reach for the door for the sudden haze in his head, didn't see the surge of fire rush in her direction, didn't hear the terrible, furious, ear-splitting shrill that cut across the golden cave, didn't feel the dagger fly out of his hand and vanish into the bright yellow haze. His shouts drowned in the loud hum that consumed the moment of grave silence swallowing his mind. A mighty swirl of fire coiled to the ceiling and a small brief gap opened, somehow clearing his head at the same time. His focusing eyes snatched a view of the portal and he could see that it was empty, that she was gone; the distorted ripples now settling back into their regular calm rhythm.

Vergil knew he should have felt panic seep into his mind and body, should soon feel his soul dragged to the edge of the chasm that was to imprison him in hell, should have experienced his mind being ripped to pieces again, yet he sensed none of that. He felt numbness encroach him as if his mind was not his own to command, experienced emptiness as if his stronger heart had all together vanished from his chest. A vague sensation of immense heat nearing his face and then he was falling, plummeting sideways to the hard stone floor…

"Verge! Watch the fuck out!" Dante gave a harsh yell over the shrill that overcame the cavern, his hands putting out the fire frantically from his red leather trench as he let go of Vergil, jumping back to his feet. "Dammit, look at the state of this," he held out the flap of his long crimson coat, smouldering black holes gaping from its otherwise shiny fabric.

"Do not worry yourself, we can go now," Vergil said frostily in a low voice, getting up and brushing past Dante's open coat. He didn't believe it, it couldn't have been what it looked like; she would not have done what would have been a coward's way out. She was a one to fight! It must have been something else! She would not have abandoned them like that, would not flee to hell, even if she _was_ its rightful ruler... She would not betray his fragile, insecure, undisclosed feelings, would not snatch away the light he had fought so hard to finally see…

He knew her that well now; she would have smothered her arrogant brother with her own small feisty fervour, would have done something stupid to save them...to save _him _blindly...just like Dante used to do. Vergil forced his muscles to move against his will, to move away from the portal.

"Go?" Dante left his mouth in a gape as he glanced around the ferociously burning cavern, searching every inch between the steadily intensifying flames. "Hey bro, where is Vesta?" he questioned warily.

"She's gone, we can leave," Vergil insisted coolly, his features setting into an unbreakable stone as he began to walk to the far-end corridor that led to out of the crystalline core. Only he was to take just a few steps and stop, in the centre of the cave filling with molten fire. He felt a small tingling on his hot skin, a puff of breeze, cooling him down in the vicious inferno that surged all around them, as if he stepped in the path of an icy blue waterfall.

Dante clenched his teeth as he watched Vergil freeze, and without a second thought, before sensing something was amiss, started to rush towards his brother, seeing the demon's misshaped head emerge from the ceiling, readying to hurl the final blow at his near immobile brother in charred blue below. A giant column of molten sun's energy spewed out from the monster's wide open maws just as Vergil threw his head back, letting his eyes slip closed.

Dante was nearly on top of his unmoving twin, feeling the unholy heat close in dangerously from above, when Vergil lifted his arms and something cold as ice and chilling to the bones hit him with a tremendous force, making him reel backwards, away from Vergil. Dante landed on his backside, his hand whipping instantly to protect his eyes from the blast of a blue-black arctic blizzard that swept through the entire room, shaking it from within.

Sitting speechless in awe, as the thick haze dissipated and Dante lowered his arm, he saw Vergil standing in the same place, a large silhouette of a dark blue energy pulsating around his body; his presence rushed the entire room, and he seemed tenfold stronger than just a few seconds before.

The cave fell silent, freed from the smell of intense burning and the crackle of fire, only a negligible humming radiating of his brother's still body disturbing the tomblike quiet.

Amongst the smoke that was left in the wake of the sudden blizzard, a sound of something dripping down averted Dante's attention, and out of sheer instinct he caught his custom guns that were thrown at him at that very moment, whipping them straight out to aim at the overlarge nugget of gold that oozed onto the amber ground. A confused and wobbly demon lord soon emerged from the deformed shape, standing up a little dazed to show his annoyed yet alarmed pretty-boy face again.

Not quite comprehending what had just happened, Dante's unblinking eyes shot back to Vergil whom had not rushed to turn…only lowered his arms, his head now slightly bowed. Slowly, his brother fixed his icy, fathomless gaze at Arawn, without moving his head, his eyes blazing the most spiteful wrath of a dark slayer, one that Dante had used to see precede the violent events of Vergil's darkest past.

Dante still couldn't quite understand what Vergil thought he was the hell doing by just standing there until he spotted what he still refused to believe. Vergil was holding something in his left hand, a long slender sword, the unmistakeable golden ribbon swaying lavishly from its immensely shiny, raven sheath…

He didn't quite know how it was possible, how it came to be, but all he knew for a fact at that very moment was that the wall-sucking creep was about to get what was long coming...

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I request reviews or thou shall feel the wrath of Vergil's returned power! Bwahahahaha! How did it happen and how will it all end? Find out in the next and last chapter! Sniff…

_Farewell my friends, you have been a very captivating audience, although a bit silent at times, especially lately! I shall remember you forever though, so to be remembered, leave me with a memory to remember! Lol, my tongue hurts. _

_In short, press that frigging Review button now! *flicks hair behind neck calmly, turning away to leave* By by, my dear, dear readers...the speediness of the next posting and whether I shall return is up to you... *walks away silently, hiding an evil smirk* _


	28. And where it all began, it shall all end

**And where it all began, it shall all end...**

Vergil rolled his shoulders lazily, letting his bones crack under the weight of the raw power and with it pleasure that enfolded his aching, burning up body like a mould of soothing balm. He waited, letting the sealing energy reach and envelop his mind, fill in every open breach and rebuild his walls, feeling his broken barriers once again stand up into a solid, impenetrable fortress. No one in hell or hell itself stood a chance of getting in now…

He remained still, only his finger tapping calmly on the hilt of Yamato; the real magic-infused katana, his long lost, demonic keepsake, fitting like a handmade glove that Vergil never grew out of, fusing like an insatiated symbiotic being with its master, pulsing with hunger for vengeance against the purity of evil, waiting and anticipating the ingurgitation of its first deserving meal in many long years.

"Hey, what the hell has just happened Verge? Was that thing delayed? Cause seriously, I think you should ask for a refund," Dante jumped up to his feet, brushing off the dislodged pieces of his charred coat flamboyantly. He looked at Vergil, his arrogance returning at the sight of his empowered, confident brother.

A sinister sneer, one that had used to reel any lesser demon to its own voluntary death crept onto Vergil's pale lips. He was looking at the floor and began to speak sublimely, like a preaching saint, ready to ensnare his entrapped audience. "You went to great lengths to protect me, while destroying everything I had…," he paused, adding to the dramatic ambience, his finger sliding sensuously over Yamato's black as midnight sheath. Such an old, impossible to break habit…

"Impossible…," a low mumble passed through Arawn's dry, cracked lips.

Vergil's head whipped to the demon suddenly. "And now, who is going to protect you...from me!" his already cold voice slid into dangerously low growl, briefly stunning the demon lord standing in front of him who shuddered involuntarily, observing less enthusiastically Vergil's returned demonic inheritance.

Seeing the apprehensive, almost wondrous brief hesitance in the all mighty lord's eyes, Vergil continued, his tone dipping subzero. "As I recall, you were so keen on forcefully taking Yamato from me…at my _full_ power," he paused, cracking the knuckles on his right hand, left thumb sliding behind the guard of his katana slowly.

Silence... "Well then, now is your chance, the only chance you are going to get, so I strongly advise you to take it. Arm yourself, as I will not reserve my patience to ask you again," Vergil said in honourable politeness yet with dark finality, bringing his impressive sword forth half drawn to avoid any misunderstandings.

"Impossible…," the demon repeated absently, his baffled eyes landing on the pulsing sword in Vergil's confident, unwavering hand. "She would have chosen power!" He proclaimed in a strong hiss, shaking his head.

Apprehending the devil's confusion and inherent non-perception, Vergil deemed it necessary to enlighten his opponent, cruel contempt creeping onto his face. "You are wrong. She chose something far more powerful, something a full demon could never possess or comprehend."

"Did _she_ do this?" Dante raised the question together with his eyebrow quietly, despite seeing that no one was listening to him. The two were measuring each other like two alpha lions in an inadequately sized and built cage, just before ripping each other to pieces. He crossed his arms and observed intently, for now…

"What I comprehend is that the little bitch made a fatal mistake. She chose to help _you_! Not only will she _die_ in hell, of that be assured, but she has played Yamato right back into my hands, and with it, a farther reaching reason to kill you!" the demon snarled, his shoulders cracking open as two mounds of golden mass sprouted from above his collarbones.

"No," Vergil replied curtly. "She chose to be human. Something I should have done a long time ago. That is why I am now stronger than you have ever aspired to be." _And myself_, Vergil muttered to himself inwardly, his mind casting away his erroneous past. "As for Yamato, come and take it if you so wish," Vergil taunted with a sinister gleam, the imposing katana sliding back into its slender, blue-pulsing sheath as a sign of outspoken contempt.

"You...you will still not defeat me! I have been named after Arawn, the god of terror and war, whose might I have been endowed with to uphold. I am a _full_ demon, one of pure and noble blood, unlike the defecation that courses through your sullied veins," Arawn boasted haughtily, streaks of gold beginning to appear and pulsate around his body, the tentacles that shot up from his collarbones pumping in and absorbing power from the light flooding the brightly luminous cavern.

"Being a full demon, you have only gotten _soft_ in the human world over the long years," Vergil turned away slightly, showing no concern for the 'god of terror and war' that started to glow in a thick layer of demonic energy bathed in the purest colour of light. "I, on the other hand, have always been on home ground wherever I may go, and my blood therefore is pure in _both_ worlds. You are the abomination on this land," Vergil gestured with his hand to the tunnel that led outside the cavern, haughty glint flashing in his hardening eyes. "Lastly, your name...," a contemptuous sound came from his mouth, "...a name without an honour, is no name at all," his deeply ominous, disdain filled eyes swivelled back to Arawn's.

"Yeah, tell that overripe, gooey-peach-on-a-stick mother-sucker. Just because you are whatever the fuck you are does not make you whatever the fuck you think you are," Dante jumped in, unable to just listen any longer, his guns rolling enthusiastically around his thumbs in the demon's direction, his face glittering with pent-up joy. "I say we grease this rat-fuck son of a bitch right now!"

"I demand you keep your foul-mouthed sidekick on a tighter leash or I will squash him like the stinking insect he is!" Arawn erupted into a renewed rush of irritation, flares of heat spiralling off his continuously melting body. The demon's face, the now only recognisable part of him, was slowly sinking into the dissolving body mass that began to grow, lumps of demoniac energy traversing through the stretched out tentacles to feed the morphing form.

"You have obviously lived with your whiffy cologne too long if you think that _I_ stink! Not to mention you are forgetting that you are the one currently winning the prize for the insect lookalike contest with extra points for extreme ugliness," Dante growled, pointing his finger at the changing demon together with the huge barrel of his gun, his finger itching to pull the trigger. If only he could borrow Vergil's aura and freeze his bullets with liquid nitrogen…he could turn the fucktard's freakish eyes into perfectly shaped ice cubes just for fun…

"Dante, thank you for your irreplaceable support, however I wish to deal with this...rat-fuck...myself from now on," Vergil's fathomless eyes swayed to his brother together with his open palm, the depths of his frozen pools conveying gratitude at further infuriating the short-fused twerp for him, yet asking for a chance of a solo reprisal, now that he was his good self again.

Dante gave an invisible nod, standing down, although grudgingly, his guns vanishing behind his sanguine trench.

"_Deal_ with me? You think you can just _deal_ with me?" the demon's incredulous, riled up voice turned into a deep dark laughter that echoed through the cavern like an ominous signal of doom.

"I know so. After all, I have dealt with overzealous, belly-crawling creeps all of my life," Vergil let his eyes drift away to stare at the wall as if he was talking to no one, with this gesture taking away all respect from the demon whose agitation was spiralling out of control.

"Consider yourself special though, as none of the others of your un-unique kind have received the benefit of an enlightening conversation before their rotting bodies fed the earth's soil, and their souls sought their rightful place in hell," voice monotonously engrossed, Vergil was still looking away, now watching the dark shadow slowly rise and creep up the wall. It was like a shadow of a powerful angel of doom preparing to engulf everything living in its cataclysmic reach, Vergil thought, curiously tilting his head.

"Did you know, that nothing really matters…that all the power in the world has no meaning if darkness is all that is left to feed your blackened soul, until you find yourself drowned…and there seems to be nothing at all to pull you back out…," he lowered his eyes to watch in silent intrigue as the small blue light danced about his knuckles, the power crackling in between his fingers. Vergil sent a fleeting side glance to the silently rippling portal across the cavern…

_Strange, how now, when I need you the least, I am finding myself needing you the most… _Vergil closed his hand and the small light trickled away.

Holding his breath so hard, Dante nearly lost balance from the lack of oxygen, even though he stood firmly on both feet in a thousand times practiced and performed battle stance. His muscles tensed at Vergil's more so than unusual speech, as it dawned on him, his older brother had _never_ given one to his foes before running them through with his silent death-bringing sword. This was not meant for their enemy at all, he had been talking to himself!

"Vergil!" Dante gave a nerve shattering yell, seeing the terribly misshapen, long talloned arm, set on fire, shooting fast towards his distracted brother, or so it seemed.

Vergil stood still and yet he shimmered away, the hellish enflamed tentacle piercing his disappearing image right through his strongly beating heart that puffed into a cloud of sparks and distorted air a fleeting second later.

God, did that feel so liberating! The lightness in the air, as if every cell of his body became lifted and was set free, elevating his sense of complete independence exponentially. Vergil pondered wonderingly why he had never noticed this feeling before as he had drifted in space so many times before, just like now, until he reappeared a few paces behind the ungodly beast of hell.

As soon as his hands solidified, together with the long katana, he drew and thrust the powerful blade furiously into the bubbling flesh in front of him, hacking and slashing in a whirlwind of maddening yet elegantly precise strokes that would shred any enemy into a perfect jigsaw puzzle before they would realise something had been amiss.

The nearly smoking sword coming to a halt, Vergil stood in brooding silence as he gazed upon the devil lord before him who was not in the least affected by Vergil's usually lethal inhuman attack. Instead, only slightly more misshapen than before, the monster began to rapidly re-swirl back to his less than defined shape.

"Oh yeah, I did try that. It didn't cut it," the annoyingly stating-the-obvious-a-bit-too-late voice of Dante came to haunt his ears. Upon casting a quick fathomless glance about the cavern, Vergil spotted his twin standing ever so casually astride, near a wall, his ridiculously oversized broadsword thrown restingly over his sculpted broad shoulders.

"You don't say!" Vergil just about managed a frown before he flipped backwards on a scary, self-drilled instinct as a charging arm flew past and slammed into a nearby wall with shattering force. Vergil landed in a crouch worthy of a lithe cat, one hand on the ground, straight setting off into a run. While cutting and dodging flailing tentacles, he scooped up his sheath, Yamato slipping into its protective chamber a split moment later. He wasn't going to let up on propriety, the least amidst an important battle of all times.

"You can't get him like that," Vergil heard an echo of Dante's voice bounce off the walls, the demon filling up the shrinking space of the massive luminous cavern more and more, like Alice who had just eaten too much cake. Vergil came to a halt, all the thoughts in his head that had just seconds ago whirred madly to try and draw some conclusion; they all stilled and became one…

_I will show you what I can do…as I should have done so a long time ago…_

"Let's try something else then," the older twin said out loud without a single emotion marring his focused face. He bowed his head ever so slightly, tilting his body steadily to dodge the demon's rushed attacks as he calmly strode back to the burbling mass that used to be Arawn, a flare of curling blue vapour leaving his body.

_I am not afraid anymore, I am not afraid of hurting you…I am not afraid of what I can do, as I know now what I am capable of…_

"I will not give up that easily, not when favours are to be repaid," Vergil uttered solemnly, his face set in a hard stone as his eyes were glued to Arawn, a coiling vapour of blue light erupting from his side. Then another and another, all swirling into shapes of ancient ninja swords, their short, straight, scalpel sharp blades whispering in a sacred language of the ancient dead.

_Yes…I know now what I am capable of, and I will not give up that easily, as I have some great favours to return… _

"Hell is your homeland, so in hell you shall be," Vergil's lips barely moved, murmuring darkly as his hands crossed in front of him together with his katana, and the ghostly army lined up behind him like a battalion of death.

More and more tentacles sprouted from the abhorrent mass with an unstoppable force, slamming to the walls and ceiling together with flashes of fire, flooding into the chamber like a gluttonous, bursting giant stomach. An inflamed, acidic stomach…The monster wasn't stopping to absorb the chamber's rich demonic power, oblivious to the inherent destruction its severe, uncontrolled consumption was about to deliver.

_Returns shall be made indeed; one of great courtesy and one of even greater love you have given me…_

_I know now what I am capable of, and that is what I shall return… To you…Vesta!_

Vergil's fingers made a move, a slight twitch that would have been barely visible to the naked human eye, yet at that precise moment the air sifted and filled with a blur of glacial blue. All at once, the silent army of swords summoned from the realm of the dead plunged into the whirring mass.

Terribly dissonant, deep howl tore through the space that was left between the walls of the cave. The walls began to shake in a deep, hollow rumble, their amber started to glow violently, small flakes beginning to peel of the ceiling and fall down to land silently on the equally glowing floor.

The ghostly, Yamato-summoned army sunk deeply into the monster's molten flesh, causing it to erupt into even more violent rage. Thrashing and thrusting arms and tentacles collided with all that stood in their demolishing path, setting the air itself aflame. Vergil snapped his head up, glancing about cautiously as another more powerful tremor caused him to reassure his balance.

"Verge! Let's get the hell outta here! He is tearing the place apart!" his brother yelled, slightly bent down to keep himself upright as the ground under him broke apart, a large crack appearing right between his booted feet.

Hesitant, filled with raging dead calm, Vergil felt his eyes ice over even deeper, as he stared at the hard to kill, out of control adversary. Only if he had a little more time! His jaw stiffened, teeth meeting in a hard grind. Damn all overzealous, pathetic wannabes who had not been told to keep away from power that did not belong to them in the first place!

And damn father's idea of a fair fight. Hadn't he thought that any full demon could come strolling in and plug in to this great energy source like a hungry battery? Would they have to flee like a cowardly fodder and draw the overblown demon outside the cave, or hell forbid, let him be defeated by falling rubble, to stand even the slightest chance of a victory? And why did all the semi-worthy opponents have to turn into the most disgusting, unsightly, graceless, bombastic, slimy blobs of all things?

"Let's scatter bro, mister flobber here is as good as dead anyway," Dante appeared next to Vergil, nudging him by the shoulder as he paused, looking deeply into his brother's stony face. A few tense moments passed as Dante's hand lingered pressingly on Vergil's unmoving arm. Then finally his older twin turned, with _you got that right!_ on his mind, both setting off for the side of the cavern where the corridor led to the deep chasm they had crossed on the way in.

Hunching under the endlessly growing arms while vaulting over splattering body parts, they almost reached the edge of the breaking core when Vergil felt a sharp tug and Yamato slipped away from his left hand.

He instantly whipped back, a flash of enraged deep red passing through his eyes as they fixated on the thief in a deadly glare. Only the thief had so many parts now, Vergil had to take a second or two to locate what he was actually looking for.

"Now, now, that wasn't very nice," Vergil strained through his teeth ominously, some part of him appeased that he was given a reason to stay and fight, not be forced to run from a foe who he hasn't killed yet.

"Vergil! Leave it, we must go now!" he heard Dante shout as if from afar, his mind not allowing his conscience take notice of anything but his priceless possession that was left dangling up and down in front of him in a jovial grip of a swinging tentacle. Such travesty…

A venomous laughter ripped through the shower of amber that was breaking away merrily from the shell of the dangerously glowing chamber. This wasn't good, Dante lingered by the exit hesitantly, his eyes travelling to the giant crack that split the ceiling and run the entire length of it, disappearing somewhere close to the portal. The place was gonna blow, and sometime very soon…

"No! He mustn't have it!" Vergil was adamant, standing fearlessly yet somewhat helplessly amidst the imminent doom, the rumble of the falling cave together with the hellish howling of his nemesis fading to the back of his heavily working mind.

He knew his powerful allies from the realm of the dead or even the unique, irreplaceable Yamato were nearly useless against the already powerful demon, now saturated in the purest, undiluted demonic energy; and its extremely high concentration, right here, in this very cave, was limitless...

No wonder father had hidden it in the depths of this ancient, extinct volcano, shielded from all the unwanted eyes and noses by thousands of tons of thick, dense layers of volcanic rocks and obsidian. The crystallized, amber coloured core in turn provided the best habitat for what lied within, the realm of the ancient spirit, like a perfect womb for a fragile foetus, providing all the demonic nutrition that would not have been available in the human world. All this…for them…

"Vergil! It's not worth it, dammit!" Dante's shouts blended into the background and vanished from his thoughts. A blur of red flashed through the corner of Vergil's eye, moving closer, just as Vergil's eyes turned red.

Yes, why had his father done this! Why had he not used this magic for himself when he had felt the same end near as Vergil had? Why go through all that trouble to create this magnificent oasis, this miracle on earth, only to give himself up to death or to hell, and now to have it all destroyed by the very force he had stood against most of his later life?

A mould of an ugly face swam up from within the shapeless form that close to filled up the room, a semblance of an amused expression swirling on its blistered surface, one tentacle mockingly pulling Yamato for a closer inspection to its gold streaked eyes.

Yes, a miracle on earth…, Vergil would have his own magnificent possession back no matter what, but not for himself, he could never allow his father's work to come to waist, and for that he would not ignore what was right in front of him…the strength of a human heart, and the most powerful force of them all…human love.

Vergil stared hard at the face before him with utter disgust. To him, it was the embodiment of all the wrong turns he had ever taken in the past. What irony, he thought that now when he finally came to accept it, his human heritage which bared such a great weight inside the stolen realm which was born of evil, was nothing but useless in this outer protective shell made of the purest protective energy…

Vergil started in thought, peering at his sword that dangled so undignified right in front of him, in the demon's filthy, slimy hand… Of course! How could he had not thought of it before! Only how could he get to it now!

"You will never get it! You hear me!" Vergil snarled, his nostrils flaring as he reached for his katana out of desperation, watching it fly away from his grasp together with a malicious, amused croak that cut the air right after. It had not been his best move by any means, though he would rather die and destroy Yamato with him, than have this excuse for an equal, pathetic evil-opposite to even have a sniff of a victory!

"Your pitiful efforts are most amusing! Though I am greatly enjoying this, I will be on my way now. After all, hell is still in a _dying_ need for a worthy ruler!" the demon's malicious, hollow voice laced with creepy laughter resounded around the crumbling cave. Suddenly, his entire body moved with an incredible speed, retracing like a toad letting out air, shifting towards the portal that seemed way too inadequate for the oversized monster that it was only a few seconds earlier.

Another strong tremor shook the ground as the whole cave seemed to have convulsed from the drain on its precious energy, larger chunks of the glowing core falling and splattering on the ground like massive honeycombs.

Vergil glanced about frantically, searching for anything that he could use to stop Arawn from escaping back to hell, which with Yamato, he was about to achieve, and very fast! Then nothing would be safe, he would have failed, he would have been defeated horribly yet again, and nothing was to help him or any of them after…

"Verge, here!" The sound of whizzing bullets suddenly flooded his self-deafened ears and instantly became a music he knew he would come to cherish more than he would have had ever allowed in the past. Snapping out of the brief haze of numbed panic, Vergil saw Dante sprint across the cavern floor, both of his pistols blazing, all in a very specific direction.

Thanking Dante mentally for his unwavering enthusiasm that managed to fuel his own, Vergil realised it was just what he needed. A distraction. He was about to encourage Dante to keep it up, when he spotted what Dante had been actually shooting at…

His priceless, flawless Yamato!

The time seemed to slow just for him as an uncontrollable streak of devil's blue shot through his veins when Vergil witnessed his beloved sword cry under the relentless barrage of metal from Dante's powerful guns. He watched in horror his beauty screech in its final protest before taking a fall, and landing with a heart-wrenching clutter on the stone cold ground.

Unknown to him, he had undergone the transformation while watching the demise of his sword, ready to rip out his brother's throat for such an abusive treatment of what he had considered a piece of himself, a part of his soul. Yet, at the same time, another piece of him deep inside stirred, something he had not felt before he had entered that ancient realm, and with an awed start he realised what Dante had done; at that very moment Dante had been smarted than Vergil and one move ahead of him.

Damn, for being the defeated mentor! Leaving to feel proud for later, Vergil sprinted forward with the speed of the devil he had become for that very moment, reaching his fallen sword in a blink of an eye before the golden abomination even surmised the key to crossing the realms had gone from its slippery grasp.

While Dante kept the demon fully occupied by a performance of his life, clouds of ammunition sprinkling every bit of the whirring mass of flesh, Vergil grabbed Yamato in one smooth move and leaping high into the air he unsheathed and plunged his katana into the nearest wall of the pulsing demonic womb.

Instantly, the power traversed into him through Yamato like through a strong conductor. A surge of liquidised energy shot into his expanded veins like an unholy dose of steroids that he had never experienced before. It held a familiar signature, a very vague memory drifted through his mind but vanished just before he could fully latch onto it. Still he knew what is was, it held a mark of his father, the power he had always wanted to feel but never got the chance to. Now, he could have it all but it didn't matter anymore. This place would be destroyed, together with the last legacy of Sparda; no, not the last…

_They_ were the last legacy; him and Dante, and from now on Vergil would make sure it would be so for many more millennia to come…

Vergil cast his deep red slits of doom at Dante and without saying a word, his twin knew what was required of him. Needing no explanation and filing no outraged protests, Dante made a u-turn on the fly and headed for the exit. In full sprint he holstered his guns and pulled out Rebellion in one smooth move, letting his eyes fall onto the shine of the wide blade in front of him. The reflection filled entirely with blue, just before he had to make a turn and the chamber disappeared from his view.

"This one is on you, bro," Dante whispered to the air just before he himself, now being outside of the shell, morphed into a creature that he was for once proud to hold within. Now, they were both the same, now they were true twins, and he knew deep inside that from now on, this would never change.

He took off high above the deep chasm, the living dead silent, not daring to even show up as the purest light dripped deep down to scorch the darkness below, as the outer layers of the demonic core began to dissolve on the outside.

Once safely on the other side, Dante paused, turning his head to let the reflection of the loudly hissing, crumbling sphere project onto the once more human surface of his eyes. Giant cracks formed all over the breaking up core, it appeared like a massive planet about to go supernova, rays of glacial blue streaking outwards from the continuously expanding raptures. "Vergil…," Dante whispered.

Then, as if all sound was sucked out from the air, it all became dead silent. A lonely rock peeled off from high above, and fell soundlessly to the endless pit below. He didn't even hear it hit the ground. What followed was an explosion that tossed Dante deep into the tunnel and left his ears bleeding out as a deafening crack tore a hole into his ear drums.

Briefly stunned, Dante blinked the dust from his eyes, ending up gaping at the sphere through the narrow space of the dark stony corridor he was splayed out in. The molten core began to fold on itself, imploding, until it vanished completely, leaving nothing but a gaping black hole behind.

Dante tried to sharpen his eyes to look for survivors but the whole mountain seemed to have shuddered at that very moment, sending a landslide of rock and debris reeling down the inner precipice, filling it up with black clouds of smoke.

As the quakes intensified, Dante was about to make a move forward to look for Vergil but suddenly remembered the demand Vergil had made with his demon eyes just before he was about to destroy Arawn. He had needed Dante safe, pure and simple, and Dante was not about to break a promise he had given to a brother he could now fully respect and believe in.

With that in mind, although very grumpily, Dante turned around and rushed out through the tunnel, finding the alternate passage that led around the trap they had first encountered. With heavy, dust filled smoke chasing his tail, Dante shot out of the entrance to the tremulous mountain, screeching to a halt a few paces later while taking in a very deep breath of the cold, fresh air.

Bent down with his hands propped on his knees, Dante turned his head around and peered at the black curls of smoke spouting out of the mouth of the narrow passage. Suddenly, the mountain went quiet again. Mortified, he waited, unable to move a muscle, his heart barely managing to beat, breath hitching in his dust filled lungs.

"Come ooon Vergil! Come ooooon!" Finally he vent out the tension and frustration that was bottling up inside of him. "Come the fuck out Vergil!" Dante took a few deep breaths to get his blood flowing, only to stop breathing again as if to eliminate every little sound that could prevent him from hearing his brother.

The smoke has meantime turned into a light, see-through haze, rising up slowly from the shaken up mountain. The quiet that descended upon the mountain side was unbearable as Dante peered unblinkingly at the black oval shape that was the entrance, offering no sign of his blue clad twin.

Needing to wipe the sweat that formed on his forehead, Dante briefly broke the contact with the cave, noticing for the first time that it was in fact dark, the moon shining in its full glory high above the mountain peak, calm and oblivious to the cataclysm below. How could it just stand there and turn a blind eye when the world it was supposedly guarding had just been saved from utter devastation? Yes, how could _he_ just stand there…

"Hell if I don't go back there!" his dry lips murmured as he moved his legs, wincing as his muscles ached from the long, unbearable stillness. He was about to turn and run back into the belly of the collapsing giant rock when a small ripple in the darkness made him stop and stare.

Nerves nearly shattered, Dante waited. The ripple became larger and soon it gained a shape that staggered out of the gaping black void. Needing no other proof, Dante hit his knees with the flat of his palms with a zestful shout and out of all things, began to laugh.

"You sure know how to make an exit!" Dante yelled out full heartedly, setting off down to path to help the tripping Vergil. He looked like hell, Dante thought, but 'a hell' he would want to see over and over again…

"As you an entrance, my dear brother," came roguishly from his older twin as he coughed up black soot from his lungs, clutching at his chest with his right hand, Yamato swaying faithfully in his left.

"And you have not even seen them all!" Dante declared jovially, wrapping his arm around Vergil's soot covered shoulders to help him up the steep, rocky path.

"And I will, brother, I will," Vergil assured him hoarsely, grateful that his younger brother was there guiding him away from that hellhole. He really didn't want to be alone, not anymore, not when he had found a reason to fight again, to feel again.

Supporting each other up the hill, they both remained quiet, thoughts slowly gathering in their minds. Reaching the plateau Vergil had wanted to throw Dante from before, Dante helped Vergil sit down on a rock before he sat next to him, and they both looked up to the snow-white moon in content silence.

"So what happened man, what did you see in that place?" Dante interrupted the stillness, his eyes never leaving a crater on the moon that he had been studying, pondering the imbalances of the universe.

A short pause ensued before Vergil turned his head back down and answered softly, "I saw our mother, …she looked well and happy."

"Hmmm," came from Dante unsurely, after another pause. "Did she say anything?" the casualness in his voice was stripped bare by the keen look in his eyes as he lowered them to Vergil inquisitively.

Vergil stared intently into his brother's eyes, the emotions flowing to their surface involuntarily. "She said…she will live forever. In our hearts."

"Yeah, I know. She has been in mine ever since she died," Dante interposed obiter, dropping his eyes to the jewel he wore hidden under his shirt on his chest, never leaving it behind, just as he had never left his mother behind.

He lifted his light gaze back to Vergil, seeing the unexpected abashment in its rawest yet most awkward form on his brother's bowed, slightly red-tinged face. He even could have sworn that he saw a tiny tear cross Vergil's eye but it quickly disappeared. At that moment Dante realised how much visiting that cave had meant to Vergil and he conveyed his sympathy with extra warmness in his prodding eyes.

"And she is with both of us now," he added, placing his hand firmly on Vergil's shoulder and tugging lightly, though seeing the rising self-chastisement in his brother's visage, Dante quickly steered to another topic. "Then, if you didn't get your power back there, how did you? Did _she_ do it?"

That seemed to have ignited a spark of life back to Vergil's sinking spirit as he lifted his head, eyes settling in returning interest on Dante.

"Yes. Unlike me, she knew exactly what has lain on her heart…"

"…to help a lonely lost fool, in return for her soul," Dante finished the sentence confidently.

A questioning gaze met Dante instead of a confirmation.

"How do I know? Man! She had it written in her eyes for a very long time!" He was going to add _'Didn't you notice you dumbass?'_ but refrained, not to push Vergil's ego lower than it already was, lower than he could take.

"I have seen it too late, and now she is in hell. The last place she ever wanted to be," Vergil said it himself, a bit too calmly, to Dante's knotting stomach; was he going to wallow in his stupid stupor when he was more powerful now than he had ever been?

"Man, that's fucked up," Dante let his blunt opinion known, shifting his weight to his other cheek impatiently. Was Vergil just going to sit there like that?

"No, that's sacrifice. One that shouldn't have been made," Vergil said dryly, staring emptily at the dark edge of the cliff.

"Then, what are you going to do about it?" Dante uttered a bit more harshly than he wanted to, inclined toward Vergil in his godlike pose, one knee bent, with his boot resting on a stone, his fisted hands propped against his solid, narrow waste.

"What do you mean what am I going to do about it?" Vergil got up lazily, nonchalantly brushing off the soot that still clung to his underneath-sky-blue coat. Dante blanched, readying to punch his brother right in his stone-cold, annoyingly indifferent face. There was time, and there was a place…

"I am going to go and fetch her back," he answered casually, rolling his shoulders till they cracked, and started walking away from Dante, to the edge of the cliff where Mercy waited patiently below.

Dante couldn't help but stare, then he set his face alight with a shiny smile as he shook his head. He lowered his readied hand, a hand that was close to shaking, a hand he would have to use later to brake Vergil's nose for giving him such a scare...

One thing Dante should have known, his brother was one to never give up, no matter what stood in his way. "Hey, you mind if I go…," Dante cut his own words short, recalling the promise he had given Vergil at their mother's grave; a promise that he would never even attempt to go to hell…

He watched Vergil's back still and then his brother's head tilted to the side, just enough for him to see the ghost of a smile that crossed Vergil's thin line of his lips as he answered, "I am counting on it."

_

* * *

_

Well? What did you think of the ending? Satisfied, moved, sad, happy, annoyed, confused, disappointed? Please tell me cause I wanna knoooooow!

_And here, I leave you with my final appeal… :D_

_**Writer's poem – 'To come back or not to come back, that is the question…'**_

**_If sadness enfolds me, as so very few of you who read, review…_**

**_Don't you want me to show you, what the devil twins can do?_**

**_If my face falls from the cellar, down to Australia…_**

**_How can I write without your much needed memorabilia?_**

_So, tell me, should I come back? Maybe have a go at CW sequel? Or rather a short parody? Preferences?_

_That said, reviews are most welcome at any time!_

_See ya!_

_Tora_


	29. I follow hell

Ok, so since you convinced me to do a little sequel, here we go:

They rescued Vesta, Dante found a charming deviless, they all got drunk and staggered back from hell to earth, and lived happily ever after…

- The End –

Well… That could have happened, but here is what actually happened: I give you, **I Follow Hell**, the short continuation to Hell Follows Me.

**I follow hell...**

How absurd. How completely and utterly absurd. How could anyone have thought in their wildest dreams that she would want to even set one foot in a place like this? That she would actually want to come here, not to mention proudly step up to be the head monster and lead a place of nothing but emptiness, filled with emotionless puppets, with no hope, no love, nothing…

Hadn't she tried to get away from all that was evil in her life, from all those pretentious bastards that hid their monstrosity under the veil of false grace and interest, and then imposed their audacities on her as if it was the best thing she could have ever wished for? And now, she was in their very world, and the sheer uniformity of evil seemed to have been making her nauseous as if it had left a pungent smell in the air…

Yes, how absurd, that her own father, her own blood and flesh, could have thought that she could even survive here, not to mention rule this uninspiring, dead world. Despite the presence of evil in the human world, was there even _any_ diversity here? Vesta shivered from head to toe, nearly jumping out of her skin, as her movement caused the slightest noise. She inched her head forward a little, peering into the darkness. It was completely quiet, unnaturally quiet.

It only dawned on her now what she had done, and it made her draw her body into her own arms for vain attempt at comfort. Yes, how laughable, only she didn't feel like laughing. All that had so recently started to glitter in her life, was now gone. It was cold, so bitterly cold, how could that be in hell? Wasn't it supposed to burn? How long would she have to stay here? How long could one live in hell? _Please tell me it is not forever?_

Why had she done this? Did her sacrifice even have a purpose? Did he even see her now like she wanted? Had he become encompassed by the power that ruled this sad and desolate world and instantly forgotten that she had ever existed? Was she condemned for all eternity to meander in hiding in a place where nothing would try to notice or understand her, or even pause a fleeting moment to consider sparing her naïve, wishful life?

Vesta drew herself further into the shadows in sudden petrifaction, jerkily backing away from the prowling party of demons that her wide eyes spotted snooping around. They had their heads lowered, beady eyes focused on catching a shadow of a movement, hollow nostrils taking in air that could carry even the smallest scent of her cold-sweat covered skin…or even her own blood that still soaked her clothes.

She didn't dare to breathe. Would they notice she was there, hiding in the shadows? Like a leaf on an autumn tree; hanging by the last thread, shaking, but afraid to let go, to plunge so far below… Would he leave her here like a mere withering leaf on a very thin branch? Would he even know, it was her who had jumped into the 'dark lake' for him this time…

She hadn't known how it would all happen, or where she would end up. All she had known was that she had wished to do for him what he had done for her in that terrible lake. Vergil had rescued her and returned her to life, while he himself had remained trapped in the hostile waters to die. Now, she had done the same in return; she had rescued him and brought his life to him, in exchange for remaining trapped in this hostile land; a land of her worst nightmares…

Could he have not noticed that? Should she have rather died right next to him, in the knowledge that there was a slight chance that he loved her despite her shortcomings and dishonourable way of life? Would it not have been better than dying all alone, in this empty, endless darkness, but with the slight possibility that he had seen something more in her than a mere pitiful case?

No…

Vesta clutched the dagger in her shaking hands, she would have thought she shouldn't be afraid. Back in the human world, she had plunged herself fearlessly, or was it recklessly, into an adventure that she had never imagined would end up this way. She had battled the beasts of anyone's nightmares with a wooden bocken, with mere hands in needed be, like a warrior unafraid of anything; but it was all in the shadow of his strong, mystifying presence…

Like an angel made out of pure marble, commanding, soul defining, one deep undeserving gaze changing her from inside out. She had been like an eager schoolgirl that wanted to change her inadequate ways to find her image reflected back in those deep blue eyes. And she did… He had been her saviour and at the same time, her destructor. He had been strong and unwavering, even in the face of death…

…and she couldn't be. As now, when he was so far away…was it why she felt so scared and powerless? How ironic, that now when she had been given all this strange power…she was feeling at her lowest? But what use was her power when she didn't know how to use it? The only gift that she could clearly see was her night vision, something that had only provided her with a view of what kind of a big trouble she really got herself into!

Despite the murky darkness, she could so clearly follow the silhouettes of monsters far more terrifying than those creatures that had killed Vengeance and had brought even Vergil to his knees. Despite the pitch black, she could see clearly the desolation and hostility of this land, or deformity even, as she watched the beasts saunter in frozen, monotonous movements, some distance down, through a narrow gap of some sort of upside down stalactites, with round platforms on top, on one of which she crouched in fear. Despite the dark colours swallowing her clothes, she could clearly see the bloody stains soaked into the fabric. Staines caused by her own blood that had gushed out when her own brother had skewered her with his own sword… How good was her power, if it only provided her with terror she had not known before?

Clenching her healed chest absentmindedly, Vesta looked down, the gray slabs of stone below seeming so cold and hard, yet trodden with countless demons' claws as if they all had carved their path for thousands of years, like fossilized ghosts. Was that going to be her fate, to end up a lifeless drone like all the others here and would her unlikely human-looking imprint be seen on one dusty path for someone else to ponder about thousands of years from now? She shuddered.

She had to get out of here, or at least try even if it was to be her death. If there was a way in, there had to be one out. If only she could stop shaking, and stop being so afraid, and had the strength to move on. But how was she even going to get down? Perched high atop a cluster of tall pinnacles, so far from the ground below it seemed. Only a day ago, she hadn't even found the courage to jump out of the window of Vergil's mansion when it had been swallowed by the flames from her brother. How could she jump down now, when she didn't have the comfort of Vergil's presence to guide her on…?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Jump down already, you clunky lumberjack!" The grumpily baritone voice swept all the remaining dust from the narrow, whirring dirt-hole.

"Clunky? Lumberjack?" came back a stupefied response.

"Well, are not lumberjacks clunky?" Vergil raised an eyebrow in an elegantly calm way, contradicting his earlier short out-patience which he managed to contain by a hidden grind of his teeth.

"And who says I am a lumberjack?" Dante protested from below.

"You do carry a grotesquely oversized sword on you, do you not? One that outweighs you by more than ten times your body fat and hence, is now pulling us both down, is it not?"

"Hey, if you are going to complain, do me a favour and remember one thing, well two actually; one - we would be just fine if you didn't carry with you a flimsy toothpick of a knife, and two - whose idea was this again?" Dante presented to Vergil who in return pretended to consider Dante's point with an elongated face and a pondering look.

They had decided to head straight for a portal that hadn't been the best choice for reasons to be seen later, but since it had been the closest one, it simply had to do. Vergil had descended that fateful mountain to mount his horse in haste, while Dante had resorted to flying as he didn't trust Mercy since that day she had tried to bite his ass with a grin wider than his own. He had never seen anything grin more than he could muster and that truly scared the pants of him more than anything else. That horse couldn't have been human! Or was it equine? Well, so instead he had steered well clear of Vergil's nasty beast, and had provided his own transport.

If only that blasted horse hadn't arrived there first and hence provided Vergil with the winner's opportunity to get to open the portal before Dante had the chance to talk him through a few little rules. Well, Vergil had always been the one with the means to open portals, at least once again now, since he had recovered the real Yamato, but still, he shouldn't have been plunging headlong into any dark holes and such. That was Dante's job after all, no, it was his birthright!

Now, by some lingering subconscious distrust when a portal and Vergil was in the same equation, at the same time that was, Dante had found it therefore prudent to leap in first, without having that chat first and therefore not really finding anything potentially significant about the barely used portal. That was when Vergil had had to jump right after his hasty brother and only hope that Dante would do what Vergil predicted Dante would do.

Fortunately the prediction hit the mark when Vergil had felt Dante's desperately grabbing hand grip his leg, as his younger brother had spotted the deep dark oblivion gaping right under him just as he came out of the dusty cloud set off from the cobweb covered portal. Upon realising his repeated mistake, by a scary survival instinct, Dante swept for anything he could secure a hold on and it happened to be Vergil's silken trousers, conveniently available right above him.

Only Vergil quickly forgot the saving Dante part, and rapidly began to enter the irritated part, since his dear heavy brother was now dangling from his trousers, doing nothing to get off of him. Vergil had no problem holding onto Yamato's hilt, the rest of the sword embedded deeply into the portal's fortunately still solid walls, but he did have a big problem with Dante hanging on as if waiting for the thin yet strong piece of clothing to give way and slide down at any moment.

"Please, spare me from using you inability to stop and think before leaping into just about any dark hole as an excuse to insult my weapon. One – this, 'toothpick' as you so inadeptly put it, is keeping you alive right now, and two - no one forced you to either come, nor jump in first without thinking." Vergil enlightened Dante in an annoyingly I-have-an-answer-for-everything way, with only a hint of miffed 'whatever' dancing across his otherwise stony face, as he didn't appreciate Yamato being called a toothpick, of course omitting calling Dante's sword grotesquely oversized; because it _was_, in his not so humble opinion.

"Well you've been there, she's just gone there, I might as well join the club. And I thought, as a gesture of good will, I would check the coast first, you know…try before you die?" Dante shrugged, tugging Vergil's trousers down a notch in the process.

Not buying Dante's excuse for a second, Vergil frowned and stared impassively into his brother's not so convincing eyes. "If you didn't trust me, you could have simply told me. And then, I would have explained to you very politely, that I would not want your help unless you would overcome your encrusted prejudice held in your suspicious mind."

"Wha-? Well you know bro, I can't just easily switch off the past, or strangely enough, ignore what you have made me grow up with, and that was to trust no one. I can't help but doubt even myself sometimes, thanks to you, so if you don't want my sometimes distrusting hand, I will climb right back up, up your trousers…," he made a move, his biceps hardening as he started to pull himself up.

"Don't be a fool. Did I not make it clear that you can lend your hand?" Vergil interposed hastily, his stare so heavy it could have pushed Dante off in seconds.

"Yeah, that is why I am making sure, you know, since you don't normally change your mind," Dante straightened his arms again, lowering himself back down, a small triumphant smile dancing on his wide lips and reflecting in his eyes.

"And I do not offer lightly either, so do me a favour, and jump over there on that ledge already!" Uncomfortably discontented, Vergil nudged with his chin to a place obscured by a deep fog, where nothing could be seen.

"I see no ledge there," Dante returned his gaze to Vergil doubtingly, after probing the said place with his eagle sight. "You are not trying to get rid of me, are you?"

"I never taught you to distrust _me_, did I?" Vergil's eyebrow shot up high, questioning Dante's hesitance. He quickly continued though, not wanting to hear an answer he set himself up for. "Besides, if I wanted you dead, would I not have simply let you plunge into the hole the first time around? It would have been far simpler, do you not agree?" His second eyebrow joined the first, both hovering high up on his forehead expectantly. No answer met his challenge but a deep, pensive look from below, thankfully. "Yes, I thought so, in that case, get your derriere moving, and I will swing you over."

"Hey, hey, if you see something I don't, why don't _I_ swing you over while you hang down from _my_ trousers!" Dante fired off one last protest, the prospect of falling off from Vergil's reach into a deep oblivion of hell somehow clouding his normally fearless mind. This really was one of the times, when he wished, he had been born without a conscience as his memories had brought it excruciatingly to the surface way too often…

Vergil allowed his eyes to roll royally at Dante's inexplicable unease. Was Dante not the one without any inhibitions whatsoever, at least when it came to recklessness? "Because, then I would have to leave you dangling from the portal, which will soon vanish and hence would send you plunging down that very deep dark hole, and then, what use would you be to me dead?" Vergil would have raised a third eyebrow, if he had one.

"Leave _me_ dangling? And how do _you_ plan on getting to the ledge yourself, after swinging me over? You saying you can jump further than I can? And I still doubt that ledge is even there!" Dante insisted, holding on, not realising they have been slightly inching down all this time, Vergil's katana now nearing the end of the funnel of the swirling vortex.

"No. I cannot jump further, but I can do something even better," Vergil's pale lip curled up ever so slightly in devilish delight before reforming into a stern unreadable line. He stole a glance at his blade, feeling the wall of the portal thinning around the strong, folded steel of his sword.

"Oh and what is that…ballet dance on air?" Dante joked, trying to clear his mind from the invading images of Vergil falling deep down from his outstretched hand…

"Teleport! I will teleport over, now jump already!" Vergil said curtly, already starting to swing his leg, whether Dante liked it or not, as he felt the sword slip out from the slackening walls.

"Oh, sure, then why didn't you just saaaaay…," Dante was flung high in the air in a perfect arch, whizzing right through the patchy fog that turned out to be no fog at all.

"…so-aw," he landed against something hard, his hand slipping from a surface covered in fine sand that didn't provide any grip at all. At the same time, Vergil's hand slipped off the portal together with Yamato, and he flickered away just before the vortex vanished completely, reassembling himself right above Dante with a readymade outstretched hand.

"Because I needed you to start trusting me, without questioning my every single move," Vergil secured a vice lock on Dante's wrist and with one smooth movement pulled him up onto the top of the cliff.

"Well, sorry. I guess I am just going to have to start from the beginning again then," Dante brushed off the specs of sand from his hands and lightly patted Vergil on his triceps, brushing past him to get away from the sheer drop that still managed to send cold shivers down his spine.

"Fine with me," Vergil affirmed with feigned indifference, not letting his hurt pride come to the surface. He did not need Dante's doubts right now, he needed his undying support and confidence the most. Now that they have arrived, this place made him troubled inside, as he knew nothing good would come to any of them if they overstayed their unwelcome.

"Right then, so where are we headed?" Dante stopped with his knuckles on his hips, looking out to the vast desert before him, watching the occasional gusts of wind whisk an endless supply of dust and sand into the warm but dry, hard to breathe air.

"I would guess the girl would have been most likely taken to the place where Yamato has been sealed away, since she was traded for its return to me," Vergil said, his voice emotionless despite the increasing discomfort he started to feel against his burning heart. As if coming back to this forbidding wasteland wasn't enough, on top of Dante's hesitance, he had to start doubting himself again. Or could it have been something else?

"Oh great, well apart from not even wanting to find out how you came to that conclusion, sounds like a good plan. So, where was your sword then?" Dante rubbed his hands together, looking around for a suitable direction.

"I have not a clue," came a stoic, even answer from behind him, causing Dante to whip round on his heel.

"You are kidding me right?" Dante gave his brother a wry look. Vergil was so full of usefulness sometimes, it still managed to surprise him.

"Although I seem to possess a sense of humour from our mother's side, I am yet to kid anyone," Vergil's face retained its stony tension as he spoke, eyes slightly narrowed as he searched the plains of sand for any kind of a familiar landmark.

"So, what is the plan then? Ask the first demon we kill?" Dante's corners of his lips turned upwards, as he let Rebellion's hilt dance in the palm of his hand. Hell really wasn't that bad, if it was just heaps of sand and a few dust devils dancing around?

"Wherever we go, I suggest we exercise stealth," Vergil's darkly delivered caution quickly removed Dante's enthusiastic smirk from his face. "We do not want to draw an unnecessary attention to the fact that both of us have had the insensible and outrageous idea of venturing back to the netherworld, since I am still technically on the most wanted list."

"Oh please, please tell me there is at least a nice reward? A strawberry sundae, an olive-less pizza, extra stringy cheese, although I could easily settle for a simple signpost…"

Vergil's deathly glare caused Dante to put up his hands defensively as he hurried to extinguish the threatening ice-age. "Kidding, just kidding!" he protested.

"As I said, I am yet to come across any practical use for this kind of humour. But I may yet surprise myself," Vergil said with slight contempt, finishing tentatively as he couldn't bring himself to ignore his receding unease. Did he just _feel_ the practical use for 'kidding'? A dissolver of tension?

"You are a lot more tolerant these hours," Dante established, rubbing his chin with suspicion. "You are surprising me in some very strange ways," he concluded, setting his forehead into a disbelieving scowl.

"I am simply opening my mind to the remotest possibility that my ways may not always be the best. Something… inside me…has been telling me that life filled with single-mindedness and fears of venturing past its thresholds, is not worth living…," Vergil admitted, trailing off in thoughts as he stared at the empty desert.

"Yeah…right. That makes…perfect sense. How about, whilst you sort out your thresholds in there," Dante pointed his finger to Vergil's head, "I will just choose where we are going to go…in complete stealth of course…," Dante swapped weight from one hip to another, deciding where to go.

"We must go that way," Vergil interrupted, his gaze set hard on a spot filled with nothing but a heavy cloud of swirling grains of sand. His thumb flipped out Yamato in the said direction as if the sword had told him where to go.

"No, I think we should head this way, there is less sand in the way," Dante contradicted, turning his head in the opposite direction just for the sake of it, though it was not hard to see that there was just as much sand as anywhere else.

"Think what you want, but this is the correct way," Vergil insisted, yet hesitant to actually set off, neither of them having any idea as to where to go and not wanting to set off in the wrong direction.

"Yeah, that's really open minded," Dante hid his own hesitation under his reprimanding observation, snapping his head back to his brother.

Vergil gave him the look in return. "I never said I would open my mind to _everything_," he drawled in a cool, slightly satirical tone, turning fully to Dante while his eyes slipped past his younger brother to narrow over his shoulder. "However, we may have just found our signpost," he added quietly, his voice dipping low and frosty.

Sensing the rapid change in temperature around Vergil, Dante whisked his head behind him, his sharpening eyes taking in the silent procession of hunched figures that began to emerge from the sandy clouds.

"I believe we have been spotted," came stolidly from behind Dante, along with a slight shift of his brother's boots in the sand, which Dante knew was Vergil taking an inconspicuous battle stance. They were spotted all right, a big time!

"Now, that's what I call kidding! I mean, are you frigging kidding me?" Dante hissed quietly at Vergil, reaching behind for the hilt of his gun as he spun his body to face the same direction as his head.

"Open minded, remember?" Vergil responded in a low dip of his voice, ice-burning eyes never leaving the convoy of the sworn keepers, the relentless seekers of all that did not bow at the power of evil, administrators of hell's bad will and most of all, pursuers of all that would feed the greed and corruption of this barren land. They would stop at nothing to return chaos to order, to reinstate injustice and cruelty to any sign of a good will, to recapture those who dared to escape the depravity of the ways the demon world represented.

They had been the ones who had brought the hunter demon upon him at his mansion, the silent and deadly hunter beast that usually followed once the seekers had sought out its normally doomed prey. The last thing they needed right now…

"Halt trespassers! State your designation," a seven feet tall, dark hooded figure at the front of the convoy made a hollow sound, its black hole for a face gliding downward to peer at the two strangers before it. Its skeletal hands were clasped lightly in front of its worn out black robes as if praying yet nothing but silence fell around them like a heavy golden cage. A few drifts of sand slid down its rough tattered cloth at a short blast of wind, the rest of the unholy army coming to a halt in a surrounding formation around its leader and the two brothers.

"Umm…we are…the brothers…," Dante took it upon himself to start answering hesitantly, as Vergil only kept oozing his arctic aura, remaining completely silent, somewhat tensely unperturbed. He sensed something was very wrong, not just with Vergil but also with those stoic, silence shrouded demons. He didn't need Vergil to tell him that it would be quite rude, and dangerous, if they didn't say anything, but strangely found himself cautious as to what to say, for once…

"…the brothers Grimm…," a deep, sure voice intervened, causing Dante to raise an eyebrow, a tad higher with every word that came out of Vergil's grimly set mouth, "…and we have come to tell the great tales of a mystical world of even greater lustings and misfortunes. You will find our offerings worthy for we are no strangers to the ways of your land."

The lead demon tapped the long bones of its fingers together, the clinking sound filling the tension that was building up inside Vergil's tightening stomach. If they fell into a battle now…he didn't want to think of the consequences…for her, for his brother, for his own damned old soul that was in such a desperate need for a repair. The only thought that filled his mind at that very moment was of her and her selfless naivety… They mustn't fight until they found her, or else…Vesta would be lost to him forever…and he would fall dead inside once again. Unexpectedly to him, Vergil shivered coldly at the thought of that outcome. No solace in solitude anymore, bitterness a companion to desolation, emptiness his worst enemy instead of hell…

The clinking stopped and Vergil's mind snapped back out of the black void of his grim thoughts to the equally black void of the face before him. The demon glided a little closer, the hem of its dust draped robes rustling in the rough-grained sand.

"We do find you somewhat familiar," the hollow voice drawled, as the hooded face leaned forth to inspect the peculiar individual in front of it, a stench of molten brimstone wafting unpleasantly into Vergil's nose. The dark slayer managed to refrain from recoiling, allowing the creature to take in his rather unique demonic scent, as anything else would rouse too much suspicion. To his inward relief, the seeker failed to recognise his identity, instead leaning back calmly, satisfied with Vergil's lack of alarm.

"What are your names and what is this rich mystical world that you speak of?" the demon asked coolly, hiding its inbred greed driven curiosity under its equally inbred haughty demeanour. The seekers were creatures spawned by the wretched land itself, from its need to constantly feed on the sins of the damned, the soulless demons feeling its hunger like their own famine; hell's perpetual calling sustaining their dull existence, causing their duty to remain endlessly self-driven, the underworld's own satiation their most intoxicating reward. They would never stop, never rest, they were illusive and connected to hell itself like a hive of bees to its queen.

One wrong move, one hesitation, one doubt or a hint of fear, and Vergil knew, it was guaranteed the whole hell would be upon them before they could sneeze out all the sand from their nostrils…

"I am Jacob, and this here is Wilhelm, we have just returned from a new mysterious and diverse world called Europe and, as usual, we seek only one small favour in return for all the rich pickings held within this highly sinful realm," Vergil said in a business like tone, not a sliver of eagerness or hesitation soiling his magnetic, monotonous voice.

"We have not heard of a realm called Europe," the shrouded skeleton posed like an equal statue to Vergil, its bony knuckles snapping as it ground them absently together.

Dante brought his finger up to hold his lower lip from trembling, stopping himself from laughing out loud. The ice-like sculpture Vergil set himself into didn't help the situation one bit, making Dante vibrate from inside out. Too bad that he sensed from Vergil any kind of mockery would not do any of them any good with these one-way-street farts. They wouldn't know humour if Vergil carved it into their unoccupied foreheads with Yamato as the eleventh commandment and then froze it for eternity as a souvenir.

"Pardon my presumption, but that is exactly why we are here. Your kingdom will be enriched and replenished far beyond your expectations," Vergil assured the seekers, adding a pinch more assertiveness into his voice.

"Yeah, they sin in ways you never ever even heard of pal," Dante could not help but contribute to Vergil's curious play, reverting back to holding his lip upon Vergil's warning side-glanced glare.

"Do you wish to refuse us and explain to your superiors why your land's reserves have not been maintained this season as expected, right under your command?" the older twin hissed roundly, hoping this should have the right effect of finally getting somewhere.

Letting the tension filled silence pass through its unmoving bony fingers, the air finally moved out of its gaping hole for a mouth together with a close train of elated sounds, "what is this favour you seek?"

Vergil nodded inwardly, so far so good. Now they just had to somehow get where they needed… "Certain tales were told of a forgotten demonic seal, one that guarded the devil-arm called the Yamato. Do you know of it," he asked cautiously yet more so casually, not wanting to bring forth any suspicions.

"Your wish is most peculiar…," the robed darkness replied in thought, measuring Vergil with what could be described as an increased curiosity or interest, somewhat tensing in its ghostly pose. Vergil's stomach tied into a solid knot, his abs working hard to subdue the flood of dread that threatened to consume and thrill him. He noted with growing knowledge that he had rarely felt this significantly about anything before.

The beast of hell relaxed after a short pause, continuing with a barely noticeable note of shame and dishonour, "…yet to our regret, the said arm has been stolen from its imprisonment, by none other than the one who is to be ascended to the throne of our mighty kingdom."

At this, Vergil's eyebrow shot up in an anxious surprise. Fending off the lack of blood that suddenly flowed from his heart, he instantly reorganized his face back into cold indifference, teeth finding something to viciously grind against. In his blind focus to simply locate Vesta, he had completely forgotten about the close connection between the realm of the demon spirit and hell. When Vesta had opened her heart to the ancient sorceress, her sacrifice would have been advertised to the living core of the Demonworld, hence all the seekers would have been alerted and sent to find her. And these ancients would want to claim her as the rightful heir…despite the futile efforts of the current ruler to eliminate her as an unwanted rival. She would have been chained to the throne if need be, to restore the broken tradition that started to bring unbalance to this highly and harshly hierarchical world…

"Then…this ascendant is in the possession of the ancient sword?" Vergil shifted his weight to shake off the increasing apprehension out of his voice. He felt a small drop of sweat form on his temple, knowing it wasn't from the warmth in the surrounding atmosphere.

"We do not know. We are yet to capture the one who is to be ascended as their presence has been masked by some unknown, mysterious power. We do know however that the one is still hiding in the former vicinity of this…insignificant power you speak of…"

"Insignifi-can't…," Dante coughed out into his hand, his eyes turning red from suppressing the tears of hilarity that were unwillingly pushing so hard to get out, one eye dancing to stare at Vergil from behind his spread out hand. They couldn't find her, blaming it on some unknown power! Who were they fooling? In his own way to try and cut out the tension of uncertainty mixed with ridiculousness from his own guts, he watched with satisfaction as Vergil nearly imprinted his fingers into Yamato's saya by his ever so hardening grip. Dante knew how his brother was itching to show them just how insignificant his power was, and lunge at the clueless airheads.

"Then, you will take us there. To see for ourselves…," Vergil's tone was indisputable as he absently crushed Yamato's hilt into his whitening skin.

"You will follow us," the demon uttered, turning to glide away in the direction Vergil had originally insisted on going. The convoy followed wordlessly, paying no further attention to the Sparda twins who shifted closer to each other out of the seekers' view.

"Bro, I never knew you could be so full of bullshit," Dante whispered to Vergil as he leaned to him, his eye gleaming with a sense of pride.

"You must be mistaken, I am not full of anything, I have not eaten since yesterday," Vergil replied in a dipped voice with an innocently lifted eyebrow, a ghost of a tentative smile tugging at his pale thin lips.

"So we are good to go?" Dante rubbed his hands enthusiastically, ready to plunge headlong into yet another life threatening adventure.

"Yes, good…for now…," Vergil uttered in grumble, casting one more glance around the empty desert before letting his boots crunch the sand in the fresh footsteps of the seekers' convoy.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

_God, I am so hungry_, Vesta put her hand against her stomach as a violent growl tore through her empty organ. She looked up to the pitch black starless sky, one that reminded her she was not in the human world anymore, before using her hand to search through her rucksack. It was empty. Her hand retracted from her bag shakily, before resuming stroking her equally empty stomach.

She knew she had to leave, right now, before her own hunger would betray her already precarious hideaway, before they would find her. She had to get out of this place, as far as possible, and find a way out, possibly moving under the cover of darkness. Or was this a bad idea?

Vesta shifted her shaking arm slightly, enough to lean out of the rocks to scan the dark stone path below. It was empty. Everything just seemed empty in this darn place. Well at least she could make her move while no one was in sight. Slowly, stiffly, she made her muscles move on the surface of the pinnacle, and closing her eyes she readied for the jump down below…

* * *

So, Vergil is discovering his long discarded humanity, but will it help him to rescue the woman that helped him find it? Leave a note to find out!

Here are the three easy steps to review:

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Happy New Year to you all!


	30. Where the hell is the compass

**Where the hell is the compass...**

It took all her willpower and a bit of meaningless praying to force her feet to leave the safety of that very tall rock that somewhat reminded her of a picture of the Space Needle. Only there were millions of them here, it seemed, crammed in together as if there didn't need to be space for anything else. Taking an extra deep breath and keeping her eyes locked-closed, Vesta had to imagine him standing down below with his arms wide open, or she would not have been able to make the jump. Scary, impossible, suicidal…

Soon the sharp whistle of whizzing air made it quite clear just how far of the ground she had been, but at least the longer she was falling the more time she had to submerge her mind into the fabricated safety of his strong body as he finally caught her as if she fell into a soft but progressively heavy cushion. Her feet bounced a bit and her knees bent down a little too much, her hand scraping on a sharply ragged surface for balance, but he brought her back up, lifting her to stand upright again, his support retreating into the pure clear darkness that remained behind.

Vesta willed her eyes to slip open, her knees wobbly as she glared blankly into the pitch black emptiness before her, trying to blink her night vision back into her demonic eyes. She had to grab one knee subconsciously as a sudden pain shot through one of her joints, but instantly jerked away her hand, forgetting to shriek out, as another harsh pain counteracted the other. She lifted the damaged hand close to her eyes to finally see, and watched in amazement as the skin took to knitting itself together, as if each cell was being repaired by some invisible fairies, the pain in turn dissipating from her senses.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," she sighed out loud in wonderment, clasping her unscathed hand over her mouth at the realization of her slipup. She observed the still night, unmoving, without a breath, waiting for the demons to come and get her. But none were coming, only the sombre, starless sky bore a silent witness to her inexperience as a greenhorn half-devil. Slowly, she allowed herself relax, looking up with astonished amazement, at the top of the platform that had been her home for many long hours only a moments earlier.

_It can come in handy though_, Vesta kept her thoughts to an inward self-chatter this time, putting weight back onto her healed up knee_. Just_ _not for those assholes to rip me apart over and over more quickly if I healed this fast_, Vesta made a face and cringed inwardly, hopping on her foot testingly. _But now,_ _I might even get somewhere at this rate, only shame all these powers don't include a compass that would point to a way back._

She returned her attention to the deserted obsidian path she now stood on. Should she keep to what seemed like a well travelled road, or slink her way across the outside terrain? Holding that question, Vesta pondered what kind of a terrain was actually hell made of, was it all pumice and bubbling lava, or some kind of a special, tailor made hell-blanket that was unique to this place?

Out of curiosity, she walked to the edge of the demon road, ready to step off, when her night vision snapped back in from the earlier fall and she spotted the deepest darn hole she had ever seen gape below her dangling foot.

_Jesus Christ! _Vetsa jerked back, somehow managing to fit in wondering if name-calling like that would land her into trouble here, realising with a mental slap that this was the least thing she should worry about. _So, at least I know I need to stay on the path_, her mind was sorting out one step at a time, and she reminded herself to breathe again, trying to find some calm amongst this surreal madness.

_Right then, now, which way?_ She stood torn between going with the flow of the footprints or against them. If she went with them, it would be less likely for her to encounter any of the lovely locals and there was not much opportunity to hide, on the other hand, she could try and ask one of those drones for the way out…Vesta dropped her eyes to the dagger that she had meantime pulled out from behind her waist.

A myriad of questions took a trip through her mind. Could she take one on if it came to that? What could she possibly do? Could she run fast, jump really far or high up, did she have a cloaking device, or infrared vision, could she sense other demons or hide the demon inside her…or the human…from them? Could she shoot lightning bolts out of her eyes, or cook up energy balls from her hands? Could she change her hair at will? Would she turn ugly as hell and scare little children in their dreams…or was it adults, or even other demons, would she turn into a wrinkly, shuffling drone like them? Well, Dante and Vergil managed to stay quite the opposite, but what if they were overcompensating for something very equal on the horrid side… _Don't be silly!_

So, so far, all she knew was that a compass was to be crossed out from the demon-power list.

Vesta chewed on her lips, making them bleed out of her human habit as she waited for some sort of a sign that wasn't coming. _Which way! Which way, dammit!_ Reluctantly accepting that no one was going to answer that, she set of in the direction of the crowds. Maybe they were not all so bad…right? Still, she would only move under the cover of darkness…

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"See? Didn't I tell you we needed to go this way?" Dante showed that grin that was labelled by his brother as 'irritably annoying and in need of a grounding comeback', turning his head just enough to make sure Vergil couldn't miss seeing it.

Their feet had been sinking into the deep sand for a short time in Vergil's predicted direction, before the whole silent convoy had made a subtle u-turn around the infinite hole they had crawled out of just earlier, and naturally had come around to head in the direction Dante had wanted to go because it had seemed to have less sand.

"Yes, and should we have headed your way at the start, we would have ended up dead at the bottom of some bottomless pit. Without a way out," Vergil shot Dante a frozen look, labelled 'no way you are winning this one'.

"Bottomless pits don't have bottoms," Dante mumbled matter-of-factly, deciding to dispute something Vergil couldn't use his gobbledygook on so easily. His eyes drifted absently to the back of the closest demon that glided in front of the brothers, and he tilted his head to observe the strange shape under the minimally swaying robes. They didn't have any bottoms either by the looks of it…

"Indeed, therefore my original instinct was correct," Vergil said pensively, now looking somewhere straight ahead, where the pesky dancing dust devils vanished into oblivion.

"So let me get this right, your guess was simply based on moving away from the hole?" Dante stopped in the demons' tracks, mulling this over in his head. After airing his raised finger for a few moments in the crisp sandy air, he came to a conclusion, "You just don't like to be wrong, do you."

Vergil stopped next to Dante, his face darkening as he moved again, forward past his brother. "No I don't, not in this vile place, when someone might die as a consequence."

Holding to say that Vergil didn't like to be wrong at any time really, he realised that Vergil was right at the same time. Dante had always needed to be right when it counted, when he had needed to save someone, no matter whom, and only hadn't cared when he had been on his own. This time, at least one of them had to be right at any given time, and there was no place for competition. Well, only the harmless kind…

"Hey, but I was still right about something you can't deny," Dante watched Vergil stop, still gazing up ahead at something that piqued his interest, the angry side of it. "There is less sand this way," the twin in dusty-red pronounced happily, yet his gut clenched as he saw Vergil fossilize into a depiction of ancient wrath itself.

"What is it," the younger twin whispered double-quick, his eyes sharpening to zero on whatever Vergil was observing so gravely, but all he saw were columns of hot distorted air rising from the desert floor, and an unusually bright patch of sand that reflected what would have been the sun, only there was no sun actually anywhere in what looked like the sky, though the sky was rather closer to white than blue. Darn hell, had to be so against all standards…

"Nothing," Vergil said stonily, but as he sensed Dante to disagree, since he knew darn well that Dante knew Vergil didn't deal death glares for nothing, he corrected calmly as if it was still nothing, "a hunter demon, possibly."

"Yeah, that's a relief," Dante made a face, the picture of what had happened the last time breaking an entry into his protesting mind. "How do you know, I can't see anything," he asked, deflecting his thoughts to a more neutral dangerousness. This way he more thought about how he hated not seeing things that weren't there even though they actually were there. Like with that ledge Vergil knew had been there, and he had let his own judgement be clouded by those woeful echoes of the past. But this time, he managed to focus on being able to learn, learn from his older twin, just like in the good old bad times…

Vergil's pale eyes slanted inconspicuously in a certain direction as he started to walk again, Dante following in step close behind. "The slight shimmer in the air, over there, and the fata morgana that none of us should be having here," Vergil began to explain, a glimmer of pride dancing in the narrow black of his eyes. Secretly, he nearly felt goosebumps rise on his skin, a subdued excitement from Dante's keenness as a worthy student. He couldn't even recall the last time he was able to teach his little brother anything and it brought him a pleasant amount of subdued satisfaction. Dante was trusting him again, at least for now…

"You mean that misplaced mirror, the reflection without a shining sun. Damn, I would never…," Dante admitted thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he secretly inspected the oddities that were the clues.

Their steps became shallower as they walked on, every grain of sand their boots now crunched on shinning like a brilliant diamond, concentrating light from the invisible source to make them shield their eyes from inflicting temporary though painful blindness. The ever-gliding demon escort never once twitched or deviated from their monotonous wayfaring, the unnatural brightness penetrating their stolid forms to mix with the dark matter of their evil existence. Ghoulish…

"Then why isn't it attacking?" Dante questioned with a hint of impatience, slinking over the dubious patch of desert, expecting it to morph into a hard-to-kill sand-creature at any moment.

"Because it has been ordered by the seekers to follow us, and take us both to the hell's bowls should we fail to deliver on our offerings," Vergil explained darkly, sauntering across the hunter's unnatural shadow as if it wasn't even there.

"How lovely. Betray or be betrayed, huh? Well, that's no different from the human world then. And there I thought we looked so trustworthy," Dante smirked cockily, a little more relaxed, clinking Rebellion behind his back with the nail of his forefinger.

"Trust isn't even a term they understand, the game is all about serving the land and keeping it well fed so that in return the enriched soil can spawn more demons," the blue twin said dryly, contempt competing with understanding in his deep voice. He knew all too well about existence and survival, only their ways of achieving it were very much different. And preying upon the weak and defenceless sure wasn't one of his.

"Disgusting," Dante stuck out his tongue, shoving it straight back in as the fine sand was sticking to his exposed taste buds.

"Quite so," Vergil gave a quick eye roll, then resumed his clarification. "Only the elite get to be born. They are the only ones who are allowed and capable of controlling and leading hell. They are highly respected and protected at all cost, like a queen of a hive. That is why the seekers will search out the lost daughter of Mundus so that they can restore the strongest bloodline."

"Shit. But at least then, they won't hurt her if they find her right?" Dante asked tautly, walking sideways so that he could look straight into Vergil's face as he was unsure of his own words.

Vergil returned a penetrating, scolding stare. "If by hurting her you don't count forcing her to be mated by a fully fledged demon of a lower stature from a closely related bloodline, most likely the current ruler who will be very shirty to say the least to lose his status, then no, they will not hurt her," Vergil growled dryly, turning his head to drill imaginary Yamatos into the backs of the demons that floated some distance ahead of them.

Those words made Dante shake from head to toe. He instantly remembered that sincere and happy smile in those large brown eyes every time he had seen them. Only a while and this place could make that smile never come back again. Just like what had happened to Vergil after he had returned, more like a sleeping ghost, since that deep blue ice hadn't burned for years and years, until now. "Then, we will just have to get there first," Dante felt his guts clench up inside, yet he tried to keep his tone as close to neutral as possible. He had to keep in check for Vergil, keep his emotions on leash, before they would get the better of him…

Vergil's silvery eyebrow climbed up at Dante's subnormal reaction. Dante was taking in the quirks of hell a lot better than Vergil had thought he would. Perhaps, his original fears had been unsubstantiated, or exaggerated?

"Um Verge, is that why you didn't want me to come here, cause it's full of these bullshit politics?" Dante asked offhandedly, giving the bottom of his nose a good scratch as he wasn't sure whether his question that came out too spontaneously, wasn't going to cause an upset.

Vergil walked on for a while, considering an answer to a question he wasn't prepared for. Finally, after some hesitation, he decided to give his true reason, in his own new found way. "Needless to say, you were never the negotiator, more so a straight out exterminator, but no, it was to spare you from what would happen when you got caught."

Refraining himself from filing a protest to the 'when he got caught' instead of 'if he got caught', Dante still couldn't put his finger on why Vergil let him come here this time, "I don't get it, so what's different now?" Dante had to walk sideways once more, needing to see his brother's face fully yet again. He really wanted to know, and truthfully, not hear some bullshit politics…

"You won't get caught," Vergil said overconfidently, gazing sternly straight ahead, although it wasn't to avoid Dante's penetrating stare.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be? Because you are here?" Dante came to a halt, his voice brimming with incredulity that just spilled right out of his mouth. If this was some kind of a bad joke or an innuendo…

Vergil turned on his heels to give Dante a half nonchalant, half surprised glare. "Precisely," he confirmed in all the seriousness that he possessed.

Yet again, Dante had to bite his tongue not to kindly, and heatedly, point out that it had been Vergil who had gotten caught in the first place, but as soon as he detected the minute sly twinkle in his brother's eyes, and the making of what would have been a smile ticking to life on his twin's pale thin lips if it wasn't for the forced poker face, he realised that Vergil was actually kidding.

"Well about darn time!" Dante choked out, his face turning red as he fought to hold in the severe calling to chuckle very madly, threatening to overpower him.

Yes, a definite tension swatter, Vergil thought, turning to resume his slow walk with a ghost of a smirk rolling up the corners of his mouth. His reason for allowing Dante to come was purely selfish and against all his efforts he had adhered to in the past, thus his concealment now had him on the brink of uneasy nervousness. He hadn't even noticed his finger continuously tapping on the golden guard of his dear Yamato, as he turned away from Dante, considering the matter closed. If only they could move damn faster, it wouldn't drive him so darn restless and unusually impatient.

"God, couldn't they move any slower?" Dante's mouthed low-key complaint registered in the dark slayer's mind only once it gained a full out loud, blatant follow-up…

"Hey you, glido," _or ass-less asshole I should say, but damn am I so good at control today_, "are we there yet? Me and my bro here are on a tight schedule you know?" Dante was obviously feeling the same pressure, only finding it harder to contain.

Vergil whipped his head so fast to the deadly escort he felt the makings of a small whiplash, panic wreathing his insides as the entire convoy stopped, the dark bowed hood of the chief seeker swivelling ever so slowly towards the twins. A black vapour of discontentment curled out from under the closely embracing cape, the head rising to reveal two swirling, blood-red balefires that Vergil could swear hadn't been there before. That thing didn't look amused, Vergil aptly assessed, his finger ceasing to tap on Yamato but instead slowly sliding the blade out without him taking his eyes off the lead monster.

"Hey, the sooner we _glide_ there, the sooner you get your carrot," _that would be us tacking you back to your mother hell, which must be your lifelong fucking dream_, Dante stood firm, raising his chin up with a confident, all over the face gleam, his hand gesturing a fast flowing movement in the air. He knew very well that they would have to kill them all before those gliding creeps could call upon their even creepier buddies, so might as well try to do it while there were all still young and happy?

The sickly pulsing, demonic-energy seething eyes slackened in intensity, the calling they were about to make to hell's perilous core put on hold at the split second consideration of Dante's reminder. The petulant skeletal creature had recalled its reward which could be far greater than bringing in two insignificant, opportunistic demons and it endowed such malaperts with a contemptible narrowing of its crimson eyes before turning on the spot to face its intended destination. A malicious, haughty voice trailed behind its cape together with another curl of black smoke, "keep up, human-world demons, if you can…"

Dante widened his moonstone blues, his mouth stretching into a shape of a gaping black hole as he stared at the pile of dust that was thrust high into the air by the fast disappearing demons.

"Whoa! Yeah! They have a warp drive!" he smacked his hands on his slightly bent knees, pointing his finger at the dusty horizon enthusiastically.

Vergil stared ahead with his ice-carved face, amazement crossing at slow pace through his unmoving eyes; only it occurred to Dante it wasn't from the seekers' speed, but from Dante's improbable, highly volatile gamble. "How did you…?" Vergil let his voice trail off incredulously.

"You didn't think you were the only one capable of bullshitting, did you? How do you think I got through all these years? But I think we better…um…run with it…," Dante nudged his chin to the settling dust, and to the no sign of the demonic convoy.

Vergil stared motionless at Dante for a moment, letting gravity guide Yamato's blade back into its sheath. Dante was preparing mentally for a lecturing comeback, thinking of a witty crossfire to the no doubt scolding remark, when Vergil's simple 'good job' left him standing extemporary and torpid.

"Well? Are you waiting for an invitation? This one is yours, after you! Or have you forgotten how to make me eat your dust?" Vergil stood firm, his finger tapping on Yamato again, waiting impatiently for Dante to start after the surprisingly speedy land's keepers. He would always lose to Dante when it came to a straight out race, the younger's legs had seemed so strangely built for enduring speed despite their apparent cloddishness and weight, Vergil too light in turn, more so advantaged in manoeuvrability and localised agility. Dante had used to tease his older brother about his slower legs when they had been young, arming him with the very incentive to learn the dark art of teleportation…

"You never ate anyone's dust, bro, apart from mine, so how could I forget! I'll see you hanging around, most likely behind me," snapping out of his shock straight into a happy vision of a worthy challenge, Dante gave Vergil a sheepish wink and set himself into a running stance, rubbing his hands.

"You are on, and…don't bother to look behind, you might trip over your own foot," Vergil responded with equal confidence, bending his unnaturally straight spine to assume his teleporting position. He remembered to put on a good display of a devil's smirk just before his body puffed into a silhouette of fuzzy air.

Wasting no time, Dante sprung into a hellish run, sending sprays of sand far behind his inhumanly oscillating red-clad legs. Vergil was about to eat his dust, or sand, or whatever, just like in the good old good days…

o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

"This dust, where is it coming from?" Vesta muttered to herself quietly to break the unbearable silence that trailed after her like a lonely stalking wolf. Silence, at times, seemed like her worst enemy, even in a place like this where even the smallest sound could bring her nothing but an inevitable death.

She had been running for at least an hour, surprisingly not finding herself tired as she had used to be after only ten minutes of a continuous sprinting in her human world days. But now, she could have kept pushing on, was it not for this annoying dust, or sand, or whatever it was! The baffling thing in itself was that the air seemed so crisp in its windless darkness, so clear until now, and there wasn't a sand grain anywhere in sight…

Vesta passed through something that felt like a thin film of liquid, having no time to think about it as her eyes were instantly blinded by an onslaught of the sharpest brightness. Her hands shot up instinctively to guard against the intense shine, the shadow now cast on her face helping her eyes to readjust to the severe change in lighting that was suddenly all around her. When she finally let her hands fall back down, a gasp was all that came out of her widening mouth.

She was standing in a desert; a parched, empty, straight, endlessly stretched, terribly yellow desert that hadn't been there only a few seconds ago. It was warm but not as one would imagine it would be in this kind of an environment. Vesta raised her eyes to the blue sky, looking for the sun that wasn't there either. Her legs started to back away, as she couldn't understand how she got there, and what had happened to the dark that was providing her with at least some form of a cover. Here, in the open, she had nothing…

Her pulse started to race and she was entering a brief spell of anxiety, when just as suddenly she felt that light coldness brush against the skin of her face and darkness fell straight in front of her eyes. Vesta stood like a petrified wood for a while, unwilling to move just in case she had been hallucinating, but the crisp black air nipping at the back of her neck made her move her head.

There were those pinnacles again coming to focus of her adjusting eyes, the wide stone path winding its way through the bottomless valley that she had just came from.

"What the hell?" Vesta uttered doubtfully at first, then she took a few steps forward to the desert and back again into the dark pinnacle valley. She kept hopping between the two, starting to hum and sing with blooming smile, "I don't know what it iiiis, I don't knooow what it iiiis," until she came to a complete halt as if smacked for utter stupidity, staring blankly back into the yellow void of sand before her.

"Oh yeah, that's what it is, hell," she said after a while with an impassive shrug, the smile disappearing from her face. She picked her wits back up, adjusted her rucksack on her shoulders and made for the pathless expanse of sand. _Oh yeah, and no signpost either. _Still, she had to push on, keep moving as soon, one way or another she would run out of food, and water…

"One thing's for sure. I will remember not to come here for a honeymoon. I wouldn't know whether to pack a parachute or a camel. That's if I ever have a honeymoon," she mumbled to herself, her brown eyes trailing the tips of her dusty combat boots, legs moving automatically under her torso, moving and moving. This hadn't been exactly what she had planned, not that she had planned anything at all. But it would screw things up if she got lost or was discovered by whatever lived here; Vesta cringed at the thought of a demonic sandworm racing through the ground, throwing the sand high into the air as it glided fast to swallow her whole…

_Damn horror films. There is nothing there, there is nothing there._ Spontaneously, her eyes rose up as she glanced back at the empty plains of the sunless desert as if to reassure her paranoid instincts. Only she shouldn't have looked, as now she was seeing things again, like that little spot far, far in the distance, one that seemed to have been moving.

_There is nothing there. It's just the hot air. But there is no hot air. Maybe there is some further on, like it was cold and dark back there._ Her eyes remained glued to the moving spot, her hand falling beside her, dry mouth coming slightly ajar. She must have had a sun stroke, but there was no sun. It felt hot but it wasn't hot, just so dry. Panic bit into her stomach, the sense of extreme vulnerability gripping the fighting remnants of ease that tried their best to prevail. It was moving, and it was moving fast. _And there is no cover. What is there?_

She flinched, her instincts calling for her to run or bury her head in the sand but her curious and fearful sides caused her to stay and stare. _Is it a worm?_ _Is it a fata morgana?_ But then the sound, that was it, there was just no sound. Worms made sounds, loud sounds. And hallucinations? She bit her lips, nails sinking into her palms, as the movement became stronger, a giant trailing cloud of sand distinguishable on the horizon, way too clearly…

At the last minute, just as her sharp sight caught the emerging image of hopelessness, the shapes of cloaked demons gliding toward her like a deadly silent battalion, she turned on her heels and broke into a manic run.

Heart jumping in her ribcage, breath coming out in tatters, the sand so slippy under her hard working feet, she didn't dare to turn her head and see them closing in on her so fast. _How could this be, they move so slowly! They saunter for god's sake and waddle grotesquely like the living dead, unless they are sprinting half skinned werewolves killing horses, how could these things move so fast?_

_They are coming to kill me too._ Vesta whipped her head back in a moment of sinking fear, a blast of pushed out sand hitting her face, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. She pulled herself up, straggling to let out a long breath from her dirt filled lungs. The cloud was now all around her, darkening the sky. She tried to get up, but they were already all around her, she could feel them even though the thick swirls of dark dust and sand prevented her from seeing their unliving diabolic forms.

How could she ever think she could have just waltzed out of here, that she could march across hell's plains undetected, all safe and sound, and return to her dream of a life? How could she think she could ever see him again after all that had happened?

The first faces emerged from the whirring sand storm that started to dissipate. They were horrid, made of depthless darkness, blood-red oblivions for eyes that reflected the horrors and stark finality of hell. No mercy, no one would listen or try to understand, as she had predicted. She had sinned, and she had sinned bad, this much was reflected in those depthless crimson eyes. Her life was at its end, and she would die or boil for eternity without knowing if he had even acknowledged her damned existence now…

But she would be damned even more, if she just let them take her without one last fight_. For you Vergil, so that you can see the real me before I die._ Her boot dag deep into the ground with soundless screams tearing through her torso as she tried to back away from the bringers of death, hopelessly slipping in the endless heaps of sand. They approached, closer and closer, those strange menacing eyes in those black faces glowing more intensely with every passing agonizing second, as if savouring her imminent destruction.

At her wits end, completely exhausted from trying to breathe with her heart skipping ropes up in her throat, Vesta reached for the dagger that was fastened behind her waist. The creature most gruesome of them all stepped forth, its seven feet of garbed body bending toward her, its immensely long, skeletal hand reaching for her throat…

She thrust the knife forward, her hands shaking unbearably, causing the blade to rattle against her two nails. "Bbback off, I have a ddemonic knife! And I have no idea how it works!" She blurted out in a snarl, not able to keep her voice from breaking apart.

The insanely skinny hand moved further down as if elongating, causing Vesta to swallow hard, but it didn't reach for her throat, instead it stopped near the exposed side of the ornate hilt of the hunting knife in her hand. It touched the symbol of the rising sun, scarping its sharp claw across the cold silver metal with a slow movement as if reading some kind of a hidden meaning.

Vesta dared to look in its eyes, her chest heaving, hand frozen in a threatening gesture that didn't seem to be perceived as threatening at all. The very moment the claw lifted of the cold metal, the scarlet eyes snapped to a void of blackness, a sea of rustling surrounding her from all sides.

She moved her head slowly, her stark eyes slipping from one demon to the next, watching them sink to the yellow coloured ground, one by one, kneeling down and freezing in a deep, respectful bow. In one short moment's time, they were all lined up in a perfect circle, their faces silently touching the shine of the sand grains covering the ground. What could have caused this, the dagger? Incomprehension mixed with a flash of hope sailed through Vesta's mind, fluttering her heart, as she thought maybe they saw something that would make them let her go…

She returned her attention to the large demon that was still standing, his head now returning from a lot shallower bow. It looked straight at her, a swirl of triumphant darkness escaping from the clear smoke that was its face.

"You come with us…," through the dark vapour it spoke with unhidden rejoicing malice, and the already small heaving soul in her shrunk into a crumpled speck of despair and horror as the meaning has caught up with her, "…your highness."

* * *

**_A/N: _**

**_Well, since it appears from the lack of reviews for this chapter that your interest is rapidly diminishing, I am going to make the next chapter the last. And you are not getting anything unless you get me to 300 reviews! I mean really, I can't post if you give me so little feedback! You did this to me toward the end of Cruel World and it is without exaggerating - cruel!_**

_To all who did review, you keep this story going, so be proud!. _

_Loves ya all_

_Tora_


	31. No one dies today who isn't already dead

**No one dies today who isn't already dead...**

"Oh, immature!" Dante heard after he had stabbed his sword blindly into the air in an attempt to catch Vergil's ephemeral blue shadow as it flew past him.

But wait a sec, wasn't that what Vergil had used to call him on the rare occasion when he had been in a state of uncaring enjoyment? Did that mean Vergil was actually enjoying his little race in hell? But Vergil had never shown any such thing as joy, hell he had always used to resort to just reducing his annoyance when he had been winning something, apart from the really old days…before mother...

Was this all part of opening his mind? Dante had sensed something different about Vergil ever since his older brother had stepped out of that mystical portal back in that way too bright cave, something foreign yet so familiar and warm, and it had been growing in strength ever since. Quite frankly all this stepping past his thresholds thing was getting a little unnerving.

Dante pondered it for a split second, then shrugged, refocusing on the task currently at hand, a task to outrun Vergil's little disappearing act just like he had used to do. _Eh, but it is so much more fun this way; when both parties actually participate!_

"You are one to talk!" Dante yelled back at Vergil's fuzzy shape, after skipping past an outstretched leg of hazy dark blue that had appeared out of nowhere and conveniently right in his dashing path.

A moment later a stony head with carved in smirk went swishing past Dante, the smirk moving to leave a stream of sounds behind, "I am merely settling the score."

"You used to settle for winning," Dante yelled merrily after the materialising Vergil as he turned his head back to front. He kept running like a devil with a hellhound on his ass snapping at his precious jewels, watching closely the sharp features of his brother come to existence from thin air, a mere few paces in front of him. He knew Vergil had been slowly gaining in on him, despite having to remolecularize his body at regular intervals, but Dante still had one more dirty trick down his sleeve…

Rushing ahead, expecting Vergil to start vanishing for another leg of teleportation, Dante scooped up a good legful of sand and kicked it flamboyantly at Vergil's solidified body. Only the lithe body didn't puff into nothingness like it had done many times before, and the dispersed sand grains slammed right into Vergil's very much solidly staring face.

Forgetting to cease running at Vergil's deadly stare poking through the strings of falling sand, Dante had no choice but to tackle Vergil to the ground, unable to veer off at the last moment. A loud crunch followed, and Dante prayed it was the sand, not the bones, though he felt that it was definitely the latter as the body-wide pain reached his brain a second later.

A set of tormented groans entered the brief darkness that filled Dante's eyes, all he knew was that he was falling, his brother in his hard embrace folding in underneath him. As the groans and the cloud of dust settled, Dante braved to open one eye.

"This pff-time, I'll settle for a pff-pff-damn tie," Vergil coughed out from underneath Dante, spitting out the sand and whatever lived in it, which he skipped to analyze, from his mouth.

Dante popped his other eye open, keen to make sure it was truly his brother underneath his bulky body. "A tie? Are you well? You are not suffering from a severe concussion or an ice-melt, are you?" he looked at Vergil's unfazed face suspiciously.

"Not likely," Vergil grumbled doubtfully, his face resetting to a deadly glare as he nodded past Dante's shoulder. "Look who is running back," he growled and Dante could clearly hear the sound of his brother's grinding teeth.

Dante turned his head to the incoming horde, a shadow of a disappointed smirk crossing his face. "Oh great, you are lost too!" he greeted them loudly, making his arrogance count as he whipped up a dazzling smile.

The entire convoy of several dozen glided to a halt around the twins who were still superimposed in a heap, the leader raising its head haughtily, its skeletal claws sliding into their usual praying position.

"We have well predicted you would lie prostrate in the wake of our great speed. Thus we have made haste to search the place you seek and saw no sign of the one wish you spoke of," the demon addressed the twins presumptuously, already deeming the case closed. Big mistake…

_No fucking shit._ Dante swore under his breath, side-glancing the 'one wish' Vergil was right now gripping very tightly in his clenched up left hand. By the subtle look of multiple homicides on his brother's face, Dante could tell Vergil too knew very well they would have never let them have Yamato, even if they would let the seekers have all the sinful riches in the entire universe. The point had been however to get to the place where Vesta had been tossed into, but the bastards had already known Yamato wasn't there and they had never had any intention of taking them there. All was lost, as now, they were going to have to kill them all…

"Is that so?" Vergil hissed darkly, slowly shaking Dante off of him in order to be able to get up. "How about we see for ourselves," he began to rise, his eyes, two frozen pools of the darkest water, swallowing the head demon whole. He had nothing to lose, they had one last shot to get there or unleash hell before hell unleashed upon them.

As the demon stood unmoved, a swirl of blackness released from its empty, abyssal face like a cruel envoy to the bad things to come. Vergil could swear the face of the heinous creature drew even darker, meaning there was no more beating around the bush. He felt Dante rise behind him, a wave of confident reassurance enveloping his preparing mind and body. They would have to be quick, very quick…

"Give us your promise first," it said adamantly.

_Here we go, now they are about to find out who we really are…_ Vergil drew in a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes as he lifted his head to smell the light breeze that grazed his cooled down cheeks.

"As you wish," his voice was the embodiment of hell as he planned in his mind every details of the demons' demise. He pulled out Yamato while snapping open his eyes, seeing the dark blue vapours mix with oozing black as the lithe blade ascended vertically to slice that expressionless face to smoky ribbons. The shrilled out word 'Sparda' hang soundlessly within the shredded vortex for a mouth as the head seeker folded to the ground, its robes rustling to pool around its already dead body.

Needing no cue, Dante unleashed his own hellish dance the same split second, making Rebellion work hard for its reputation as the gigantic broadsword cleaved its ruthless way through the ranks of the fallen seeker's minions…

His eyes snapped open, Yamato flying out to exact his master plan but in a flash it was thrust back to its midnight sheath, so fast that even a demonic eye could see it barely leave. Vergil stood frozen, disbelieving what had just happened, his heart making one jump in his ribcage before settling at the instant he saw the whole convoy turn as if on cue, as if called. Vergil held out his hand next to his hip, signalling for Dante to stand down.

The air seemed to have shifted somehow, the dark tension lifting like a heavy curtain after a show that never started. The leader of the small legion listened intently to the light breeze that carried a message no other being was able to decipher. The land spoke to it through its adopted senses; the making of ears crafted out of a thicker curl of smoke beneath the hell woven robes began to twitch.

"The princess has been located," the monster then uttered over its shoulder before making haste for the same direction the convoy had returned from.

Vergil swallowed hard. His stare at the retreating mob of demons turned frosty as his mind started to process what he had just heard. They had her. They would drag her to be subjugated by another, one even filthier and more immoral than the scum of her brother he had had to drag away from her the other night. He would not let that happen again, they would all die a horribly painful death before they could lay their lecherous hands on her. He fumed inside and for the second time in his life he realised the true meaning of fear. It felt like now, for the second time, he had everything to lose. Because he saw her, he now recognised her as his chosen mate…

A strong hand gripped his stiffened shoulder, the concerned voice of his younger brother echoing the grim thoughts that swarmed in Vergil's fast turning mind, "The princess…?"

"H-highness?" _More like heinous_. Vesta mumbled out together with the breath that held itself somewhere deep in her lungs. "Where did you get that silly idea from?" she jested, putting on a weak smile, trying to regain some sense of control and swim out of the lake of fear she found herself drowning in. Her lips began to bleed from the assault of her own teeth but the smile stayed frozen on her scarlet lips.

"Your blood carries the scent of a first-born of our deceased king. You will come with us," the dark hole for a face repeated, its sinister voice uncompromising, gaining on impatience.

_What ate his breakfast!_ Irked, Vesta shook her head mentally, the fear inside her changing into brewing anger as she stared at the rude creature in front of her. He called her 'Her highness' but treated her like some common criminal? Were all these assholes born in her proximity?

"I'd rather die than go with you, you faceless hypocrite!" she yelled, squeezing the knife in her hand madly, looking for the button that would set it on fire.

"You are not permitted to die until your bloodline has been restored. Come with us or we will…"

"Not permitted to die? Come with you? Or you will what! Kill me?" Vesta objected with incredulity in her voice, inwardly laughing at the increasingly hopeless irony. All this time her eyes held the emptiness of the creature before her, her hand trying hard for that darn button that must have been malfunctioning or didn't exist.

"Do not attempt to resist. The rules of the land prohibit it. All that dies here feeds the soil that nurtures our procreation. All those destined to rule the land and to keep the natural chaos from becoming unproductive are not allowed to die and must serve till the end of days," its dead voice said dryly, the remaining members of what seemed to be some sort of a close-bound legion rising slowly to their invisible feet.

_Oh mother of all shitty things, why did I have to end up in a place where I have to sit alongside the chief of all jarheads for the rest of my miserable life? Back at home I could at least run away but here I don't even have a clue where the exit is!_

"Some twisted rules you have, maybe I should change them," _as a queen,_ _and how does this damn dagger work, dammit! _Vesta said irritably, her voice dipping low, changing.

"The rules are absolute, they cannot be changed," the hollow voice rang in her head like some distant annoying bell. Her head started to spin.

The anger inside her grew as she kept on clutching the silvery hilt, cutting her fingers on the base of the crisp sharp blade, the blood dripping onto the clean golden sand below. She never got this angry, but enough was enough. Those hollow eyes, turning crimson, stared at her, threatening as they all stared at her like she was some discovered exhibit, gliding closer like she could even move. Everyone wanted to make her their queen, a real queen in the eyes of the world, but a mere desperate puppet, a pretty, stupid, attention seeking doll to pass around behind the closed door. And she couldn't change the rules…

She licked her lips, tasting the saltiness of her rising temper. "The question is, what good would I be to you…dead!" she hissed out and whipped the blade round, the tip now facing her torso. _I can still make it work._ Vesta despaired, for a moment considering ending her own life, before that uncontrollable anger gripped her once more. It stirred, took on a deeper, darker shade, turning into something that hadn't been there before.

_He would want me to fight. He would walk away if I did this._ _If I went with them…to be a false queen again…_ His reproachful eyes hung high above her, condescending shake of his head sending a cold shiver down her spine. Just like at the mansion, when he had slapped her sleaze of a brother away and she had been left half naked on the cold floor. Time to fight the temptations of the unreal. Time to resist the seduction of her desires. Time to change the rules…

Her eyes descended onto the dagger together with a rushed out hot breath, and the time began to tick slower and slower around her. She sensed the demon's growling disconcertment as it grabbed for the knife, it was so real, so tangible, as if she could just reach out and touch it, like a string of a spider's web that was made out of emotions. Touch it… Her hands didn't feel like hers, they were hard and rough, not soft and smooth as they used to be.

She was no more. She was someone else. A ghost of her. A hot rush washed over her, sweeping everything with it. The anger reached boiling point, exploding into a golden inferno. It was so hot, so very hot, her skin was melting and the dagger burned in her hands…

…the demonic hunting knife lay by her feet, her eyes blinking at it as she came round in the brightness of the progressing day. Where was she? Her fingers stretched, reaching the ornate hilt. Was she still in hell, in that terrible nightmare? Her eyes drifted to the side, taking in the carnage. She was still in hell, but they were all dead, their dark robes lying on the crisp sand like discarded tattered clothes.

Did it work? Did the dagger…? Her hand grasped the cold knife and she dragged herself up, her body feeling like it was tossed a mile into the air and then hit the ground.

Getting up heavily, she stretched the aches out of her burning muscles. Standing wobbly on her feet, she twisted her body to search the shards of robes that were tossed around her, there were no bodies… Tiredly, a yawn came out of her mouth, voice long and lazy, "told you I'd change the rules." With that, she tucked the dagger back behind her waist and began to walk, in a random direction, mind floating on air.

A few steps into the unknown in tiredness, she really didn't know where she was going, but at that time it seemed like it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was seeing things again, but this time her fuzzy head couldn't discern if it was for real. A fata morgana. It couldn't have been real because it had just happened. And she killed them all, a demon slayer she was without knowing how to work her only weapon…

A subject to luck she was, luck she may not have the next time. Unless getting angry did the trick… Her eyes narrowed at the giant trailing cloud of sand. Not a sandworm, she eliminated in her head, laughing at her ill fate. She felt like she did have a sun stroke this time, hot and sick at the stomach. Yet deep down she knew her discomfort was caused by what she was seeing. It was no sandworm, no fata morgana, it was them again!

"How the hell did they do that…," she said out loud, tiredly perplexed as she stared into the moving distance. "Didn't I just…," turning, she opened her mouth with a pointing finger, but the corpses were visible no more, gone, to where she had left them a few moments ago.

"They procreate so quickly?" she blinked the crazed incredulity from her eyes, flicking them from side to side to sweep the desert for any places to hide. Oh yes, there was still nowhere to hide. She would have laughed again, only deciding it was time for sheer panic as she tried to focus, willing to give some of her other demonic powers a test…and started to take a runner.

Irony. Even running as fast as hell didn't bring her closer to an escape. They surrounded her just like before as if she was standing still. She really should have listened to Dante, not so stupidly ignore what she was, before even more stupidly rushing to where she had come from. Stupid Vesta…

"You will come with us," cut harshly through her thoughts, rendering her speechless, for a second. Then her state transformed from tired to uncaring and reckless again as she couldn't muster to get angry or scared any more.

"You! You think you can just die, re-spawn or whatever it is you do, and come back here to insist on something I already made my opinion clear about?" she scoffed at the dark bringers of all evil, the creatures she would have deemed her worst nightmare before she had set her foot in Monterey.

Her outburst managed to bring out a pregnant pause as the lead seeker tried to process her strange words, finally settling its colour on smoky gray as it made its silent conclusions by clasping together its skeletal fingers.

"You have rendered our brethren dead," it breathed out together with a coil of black vapour, its tone bridging between hard restraint and wrathful death.

"Yeah, I know, isn't that cool? And I have no idea how I did it," Vesta chirped, slipping deeper into carefree numbness. Not exactly where she wanted to be…

"You will not fool us again," the voice was frosty with contempt, nothing like she should be getting as a descendant of the king. But she would be fooled no more either. They would all die again, just they wait. Only if she didn't feel like laughing in uncontrolled hysterics and instead got angry again, dammit!

"I just seemed to hold this knife like this, and then…", Vesta pulled out her silvery heirloom, about to replay the moment's past events, pausing as she began to sense not all was as it had been before. They were different, they were not the ones who she had killed before. How did she know that? Her large brown eyes moved upwards, observing the slight ripple in the air, and then down again, watching a small shimmering reflection on a patch of sand near her feet, a reflection she wasn't seeing before. There was no sun. The feeling of panic and despair returned, slowly tearing at her nerves, stimulating the chaotic upheaval of her emotions. With all hell up her ass, where was the anger when she needed one!

"Give that to us…," she heard the cold, venomous tone too close to her, and a bony limb scraped the skin of her fingers just before she jerked her hand to turn the sharp end of the blade to face her heart.

"Then I said, what use would I be to you dead…," Vesta mumbled listlessly, falling into a wall of melancholy and self-pity as her eyes followed the hovering searing air, the same she had seen the day Vergil nearly died after he had jumped into the bowls of that heinous monster… _Vergil isn't here today and I am not strong, I am just a withering leaf on a dry branch._

Her hand clutched the hilt made out of the cold metal shakily, pointing at her fast beating heart. They would not take her, she had to be strong just this once. Even without him. Her black as night pupils widened at the empty air morphing into a hunter demon right before her; it _was_ the one she had seen nearly take Vergil. She had to do it now and push the blade into her flesh, as before, but before she had been just bluffing, she was weak, she was weak and couldn't find her bravery as he wasn't here. She couldn't do it, and they would take her, the demon sprawled out its inescapable prison made out just for her, like a golden pumpkin for the princess, for the queen, only meant to deliver her to her doom and not to her beloved prince…

_I have to do it now. Grab the bloody knife and do something right for a change. But what is right?_

"Watch out!" Her body shook. Though it wasn't from pain, it was from an utter shock as her heart jumped up and down. Vesta instantly snapped herself from the clutches of death wrapped agony and plunged headlong into an unstoppable urge to skip around like a fan crazed schoolgirl.

"Vergil!" she yelled in hard to contain excitement, actually hopping up and down to try and see through the thick line of demons surrounding her, itching to see him. It was him, there was no denying it, she could recognize that voice if she was half dead, senile and insane at the same time. And perhaps right now, she was all three.

On some invisible order the cloud of the hunter paused, an inch from swallowing Vesta whole. Completely unaware, the girl kept jumping up and down, disbelief overriding all her previous emotions, the thought of seeing Vergil right there, right in front of her, overflowing everything in her mind. There were no demons, no stupid queen of hell, no doubts or fears, it all melted into the divine visage of his calm, regal face, looking at her and only her with unbreakable engagement. He came for her…

"Vergil? You are Vergil? You are no brothers Grimm!" the master proclaimed crossly with a note of vicious apprehension dancing in his reddening eyes which burst through the fog of darkness on the otherwise blank canvas of his ghoulish face.

Another voice joined in, its familiarity making Vesta lower her jaw. _He came too?_ "Look pal, we really didn't lie about a few things here, we are good at telling tales, and you will find our offerings really worth the wait," Dante brought forth his enormous weapon ostentatiously together with a hefty gleam, taking an unmistakeable demon hacking stance. "Well, don't you want to be one with mother hell?" his grin widened.

"Our deal is forfeit. Kill them! Take her now!" the monstrous demon yelled with the first sign of rage, its midnight black robes flying upwards as it hefted out two sickly glowing swords in its bony hands.

The time must have slowed down again, as the barrage of screams, and clanking of bones and metal that followed would have all blended together otherwise. Yet she heard it all with perfect accuracy, as if it was unwinding in a slow motion, every movement, every sound, every grain of sand and drop of blood that ended up floating in the air…

No others could have held such a strong offensive against a force born out of pure evil, spawned by hell itself, than those who had so much more on their side; pure faith, hot passion, discipline of mind, the power of love. Yet through the brutal carnage brought upon the demon ranks by added bravery and unmatched skill, the nasties held their own, surviving as one with mother hell for thousands of years, redrawing power from the deceptive sands that spread endlessly under their hidden feet.

The grains of sand, they floated to the demons' aid, the blood, it sprayed from the two half-devils gracefully, the precious element of surprise was not on the twins' side… If only Vesta could understand and perform her little trick, just like the first time, if only she could get angry.

The air rippled even more heavily, a slight tremor shaking the ground under her feet as the hunter beast began to open its solid outer shell, its jaws, a gateway to hell. The demonic horde gathered between the hard fighting brothers and the girl, purging any fast rescue attempt from the half-breeds' rapidly decreasing options.

"Do something! Kill it now! Use the dagger!" Vergil shouted over the mad mayhem as his light katana clashed heavily with the seeker's gleaming sword filled with never depleting demonic sand. It nearly shattered his hand, shaken up the hundred times folded steel. They had to trigger soon, he knew, if to merely survive, holding off till the last moment. Because then, the whole hell would rise against them in minutes, cutting their chances to mere fractions.

His hardened eyes landed on the frozen girl before she disappeared from his line of vision. He knew all well that once she was taken, there would be no turning back, no more rescue, no happy ending. The hunter was nigh on indestructible, purposely designed like an impenetrable prison transport, susceptible only to an immense heat that neither he nor Dante could conjure up. The dagger she was holding was their only true chance.

"I can't! I need to get angry!" Vesta called back, clutching the large knife in her trembling hand, desperately watching the towering demon before her that obscured everything else that was going on around her. She really wasn't sure at all what she was feeling anymore, the only certainty was that she wasn't scared at that moment, but what use was that if she was to be taken away from Vergil again…

"Just wave your hand! Argue with Vergil or something!" Dante suggested roguishly, a shadow of a smirk appearing on his blood smeared face before fading fast to a hard line as his weapon chose a vulnerable spot on one seeker's body and cleaved right through, only the creature stood back up with a sadistic glee, the deep tear disappearing with a brief glow of shifting sand. "Dammit! Die already!" he cursed, gritting his teeth.

"I don't want to!" Desperation etched into her face, her voice faltered and she took a step back, away from the diabolic core pulsating with the unholy ripples of inner hell that her gaze became unwillingly drawn to. The ruler of agony, madness and terror, that's what she would be, if she took just one step forward, if she just stood there like a helpless puppet. The cell was fully open now, raw in its ugliness and waiting to take her to her grisly fate. There was only one thing she could do now. _Get yourself together._ The small blade became heavy in her hand. _He will forgive me…_

"It's not that hard…," she heard Dante's voice somewhere amidst the constant crunch of metal against sand, all the sounds melting into a hazy background of melodic music.

"Use your power!" Vergil called, taking a nasty hit into his shoulder amidst the hellish waltz, blood spraying all that swarmed him, like a paint thrown upon a clean canvas.

_Yes, my power..._ Vesta took in a deep breath and clenched her inner muscles for the performance of her lifetime. She remembered the day, the minute she had stood in front of his door, thinking that he might be dead. The exact smell, the flutter of adventure and carelessness in her stomach. It was like it happened yesterday. She hadn't cared then…

Her lungs opened up and produced a series of terrible sounds in a complete disharmony of tones that were guaranteed to wake up even the deadest out of their dark stony graves and send the half-dead back to hell. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happyyyyyy…," the discordant vocals spilled into the chaotic crowd, cutting the symbiotic balance that bound the demons to the womb they were spawned from, the land. The sand fell to the ground with a dissonant rattle, each speck drifting down after tearing away from the demons' patched up skin and bones.

"Oh yeah, that will do! No more tricks for you, bozo!" Dante proclaimed jovially as the hacked demon in front of him in fact stayed hacked and folded down like a neatly stacked bag of potatoes.

"…when the cloooouds are graaaaay, you'll never knooooow, how much I loooove youuuuuuuuuuu…"

"Oh, this is something you don't hear every day," Dante's grin grew on him as he demonstrated the meaning of vigour on the remaining demons that stood in his way, Rebellion cleaving through dried skin and bone, moulding heaps of sand and folded robes beneath his fast stepping feet.

"No. Only twice a lifetime," Vergil never once groaned in displeasure at the cacophony as he whirred like a deadly twister, swallowing all dead and alive in a haze of blue fury as he ploughed his way through the heavy battalion. Out of the corner of his fiery eye, he watched the frozen hunter recovering from the initial shock of surprise, adjusting to the loud onslaught of Vesta's purposely off-key chords.

"Never shoot before a nut-cracking punch line," an iron fist connected with a scrawnie's sandy genitals before the barrel of Ivory dislodged a bullet into the blank face of the same nastie. Dante let a satisfyingly cruel grin play on his face as the red eyes before him turned into a deep squint before plunging down from his line of vision.

The last of the demonic horde began to fall, Dante sweeping the remaining few with relative ease and with a stream of kick-ass remarks when Vergil came to a jerking halt, a face full of smouldering emotions straight against a face of utter sinister blankness.

"Out of my way," Vergil's moonstone blues narrowed together with the gap between his silvery eyebrows, his voice projecting death in its ugliest form onto the towering beast that stood between him and his of late chosen woman. Nothing could stop him now.

"You would have to come through me first, desecrate of Sparda," it hollered viciously, the wicked blades coming upwards to form a perfect cross in front of its imposing body, skeletal hands entwining in their habitual praying position.

"Then you have chosen the right time to pray, seeker of hell, for your search is over," Vergil's words slid out from the depths of his despising bowls together with a lightning flash of his blade that imprinted a neat diagonal line across the demon's entire body. Its monstrous swords flew high into the air, Vergil's sleek deadly katana plunging into the hell's servant's heart before the tips of its demon-forged weapons took a deep dive into the blood soaked sand on the ground.

He would have spotted the sarcastically disapproving smirk from Dante as the bad old days hit home in his younger twin's head, only Vergil had his eyes now peeled at the fully alert hunter that was about to devour Vesta as if she was the tastiest cupcake on the planet. His only cupcake! The katana, now stuck deep in the seeker's shrivelling organ became his handicap, leaving him unable to react faster, only to fume faster. He was too late…

"RUN!" Vergil let out a horrifying yell, fighting to yank Yamato out from the sucking sands setting in the dying heart that were rendering it into a slab of stone. Subconsciously, to his growing rage, he knew that even if he was able to pull his powerful blade out right then, there was nothing he could do to stop hell from taking her. Even Yamato was no match for the hunter.

Her eyes caught his, instantly soaking with the desperation that reflected on his uncharacteristically distorted face. She turned, a gasp replacing the song that drowned somewhere in her throat at the same instant she made an attempt to do as he had asked, only the stench of defeat enveloped her every sense, every perception, every breath that she suddenly found herself struggling to take.

The reality sunk in fast and hard, leaving her in a state of complete automation as her legs pushed so hard to move forward but her body was dragged back into the increasingly radiating heat she felt consume her from behind. It was the same heat she had experienced so many times before, at the mansion, at the beautiful lagoon in the forest that had become a balefire, in this desert when she had killed all those demons…

Internally she was screaming yet no sound met with her ears. Was she…was she finally getting angry? Or was it…? A deep dread pushed its way into her guts. She whipped her head back like a hurricane, just to see the blinding brightness descend upon that monstrous demon a few inches in front of her. In an instinct she still didn't know she possessed, Vesta raised her hands up in a protective stance, her eyes falling shut on her face that she turned to the side to shield herself from the incinerating inferno.

It wasn't her doing this. It was the only family she never wished she had. It was Aaron. Her eyes snapped open as soon as she lowered her hands, the image of the burning hunter replaying as her unforgotten memory. Her golden brother stood in all his demonic glory where the light had vanished, behind him Dante's guns trained on the human form's back together with hard clenched teeth, Vergil succeeding in recovering his keepsake with a slight stumble before lending a stare of hard resentment to the image before him.

"I'll be damned, if it isn't sunny-boy himself! Verge, did you kick or kiss his ass in that shining cave?" it was said with a voice that pronounced displeasure together with a wry twist. Dante tilted his head to Vergil, waiting for his older brother's icy composure to reform. It did, thrice over.

Giving Vergil no chance to respond, although the dark twin had no intention to do so anyway while his anger turned into deadly calm, Aaron formed a ghoulish smirk on his glowing face as he snapped his head to Vergil. "You think you could kill me so easily half-breed, all you achieved was to send me to hell…just where I was headed anyway…," he said with a malicious glee, dipping his eyes to the corpse of the hunter demon freshly dissolved below his feet.

"Hey, I never had you for a charitable kinda guy, but thanks for popping over here to liquidate this liability. It was staring to bug the crap out of me," Dante cracked a lopsided smile, never leaving his aim falter, or his weariness. He hated surprises, especially the really unexpected ones. Though nicking a quick glance to Vergil, he could tell that the same went for his brother; he really believed that he had killed that piece of shit…

"Is that what you think? I simply prevented her from being promoted to something she does not deserve!" The demon spat, his golden brilliance pulsating around him like some malformed, sickly halo. "A promotion I have been born to take! I have killed the invincible hunter with a single breath, and now you will behold my might in its fullest potential!"

"Yeah, yada, yada, get on with it already, while we are all still young and have something to live for, sheesh," Dante rolled his eyes, his patience bordering on blowing the fuck to millions of shiny sparks right then, yet he hesitated, knowing he had to make sure Vergil was on the same page with him as it would take both of them to win this one. Vergil though seemed in a world of his own and it started to bug him deeply.

A pregnant pause sliced the chatter right down to an intense silence. The demon lord's head turned slowly to Vesta, his entire being bubbling into a luminous shield that made him look like a figurine of sheer gold. An exquisite sword was drawn, naked flames dancing on its slender curved blade, expanding translucent shark teeth reflecting the unholy waltz of the inferno. Three sets of eyes were trained closely at the hypnotizing imagery, the fire causing a different flight of thoughts in three different heads…

_But the fire is dead, the insides burnt out, leaving nothing but an empty shell that could crumble to dust at the lightest of touches, at any moment. The oxygen is plentiful in the air yet I struggle to breathe, in the cold and dark as if lying in a coffin, in a confined space, the walls are caving in again, crushing me, yet the screams don't come out, no one can hear, and so I welcome the abysmal darkness, when the remaining candlelight flickers its last breath away… _

_No. The fire has never died down, it is burning brightly… _

Suddenly, the teeth snapped and a voice clacked as the flames drew a neat eight in the air, "Indeed. Your turn, princess!"

"Enough!" came an austere command. Then, as the attention was gained, a dead-calm voice continued, as cold as an arctic sea at night. "No more little tricks, no more shows of supremacy, no more fancy cock fights, no more deception. If you are a man as you are a devil, you fight like a man." Vergil stepped forward with an inviting gesture of his hand, his poise strung as if he was standing in a heaving ballroom, offering a dance to the queen herself.

"Verge? What are you doing? Let's grease that fucker now," Dante mouthed to his brother, his arms still stretched out, two itching fingers hard set behind two triggers. "Now is not the time to go nuts!"

"And what trick is this? You think me a fool?" Aaron's demonic voice hollered, his molten blue eyes focusing on Vergil's hard pale face that flared with the sheen of icy determination. The demon lord observed in uncertainty as Vergil began to tie Yamato to his belt by the golden ribbon, then started to take off his full length trench coat, all the while circling the glowing devil without even looking at him.

The blue silk coat landed on the ground with a soft crunch, followed by the sound of a pulled zip, the black layered vest following suit soon after.

"So, are you a man enough or are you afraid your balls alone will not be enough to defeat me?" he said, the corner of his lip curving into a small, wicked, maniacal grin.

"Vergil," a soft, subdued gasp escaped Vesta's lips. She had been petrified into stone ever since laying her eyes on her returned brother, unable to take much more of this hardship anymore. Now, Vergil acting like he didn't care whether he would die or not, together with her sudden exhaustion, made her nearly fold to her knees.

Only she didn't. She didn't, because she caught quite the opposite to desperation in his eyes, as they flashed to Dante, and then to her briefly. It was all she needed to know that he knew what he was doing; that he knew her beaten body could not take another assault from her fiery brother, like the one she had just deflected with her bare hand. She now knew what she could do…but it was to her detriment at the same time. Confidence returning to her weakened soul, she even started to appreciate the amazingly trim and power-soaked upper body that Vergil was now showing off before her, like he knew it was just what she needed.

Dante let down his arms, folding his bulky biceps neatly on his chest with his guns still attached to his hands, a disbelieving smirk ghosting his lips. He knew his role this time around, well at least for this little war, until the next one, and that was to serve as an icon of irritation that he was more than happy to fulfil. After all, he lived on smart-ass remarks, stupid-ass demon reactions, and general ass-kicking. Only he would let Vergil do the last one in _this_ war…

"No Sparda can defeat me, no matter what form! Make it your funeral, half-breed, it will be my pleasure to rip you to pieces as a human!" Aaron boasted, his voice changing back to humanoid, together with his body as it shrunk down to a shy of six feet tall and white clad, blonde hair falling into place around his handsome face.

"Well then, let's dance, at whoever's funeral it might be," Vergil stopped his circling, his hand lay calmly on Yamato's hilt. He was free, free from hell, free from the darkness that he himself let his mind fall into. His enemy's light might have been brighter, but it glowed only on the outside, Vergil's light grew from within, by the strength of his mother he carried inside him and the brother he would find beside him no matter what times would come, …and the girl who didn't yet know how much light she already possessed. No one would die, who wasn't already dead today…

A single blink, a deft flick of two fingers terrifyingly fast and the graceful katana abandoned its sheath. A symphony of thousand muscles played under smooth as marble skin, working in perfect harmony to bring the slick blade upwards to connect with the fire sword the demon lord still held.

Yamato caught the lively fire, it run the length of its blade, bathing it in gold, the demon's sword visiting the air in a smouldering arc. Before a reaction could be made, a mighty kick struck the white as snow chest. Aaron buckled under the weight, his body tilting backwards, falling in an elegant arch to the ground. The flames of Vergil's katana hung above a puzzled eye before the pretty boy's sword landed next to his befuddled head.

A spin of guns, followed by a gloved clap, resounded behind him, together with a grin Vergil could only see in his mind. He had no intension to turn.

"Not my funeral," Vergil hissed, a jerk in his hand signalling the end of the so called mighty devil.

"No, don't!" he heard her desperate plead and although confused, Vergil stayed his hand. The clapping stopped, and he watched her approach, silently and proudly to stand above.

She began to speak, her eyes connecting with the robin blues of her fallen brother. "I felt no regret when I beat those savage beasts that killed an innocent four legged creature, I felt no remorse when those demons fell by a force I do not want to understand, but for you, I would regret laying one finger on you. I will not seek revenge for something I would only feel pity for. I should thank you really, as I have changed, partly because of you, and I will gladly forfeit my so called destiny I never wanted. I now have a blood inside me, a blood your disturbed collective would not accept as its ruler. So, go tell your beloved monsters, go and rule this agony, madness and terror. I don't want it. I…have a life to live," Vesta took a deep breath and turned away.

"You are the disgrace of the demon race!" Aaron spat on the sand next to his face, instantly feeling his neck being carved by a burning blade.

She looked back, collected as if a rock grew inside her chest at that very moment. She considered her words for a while. "No, I _was_ the disgrace, now I only rose to my better self," Vesta turned again, this time not looking back, and kept walking to Dante.

"Rose to your better self?" Dante made a doubtful raise of his eyebrow count as he looked at her dubiously.

"Well, doesn't mean I turned into a saint," Vesta winked at him as she relaxed her face yet kept about her newly found dignity as much as she could. Her eyes drifted to Vergil, who was now fully clothed again to her secret disappointment, busy nailing Aaron to the ground with a bunch of well placed ghostly blue swords.

"That should keep you here until your kind comes for you," she heard him say just before he flashed into his devil form and back again, all focused and instrumental in his ingenuity. The whole hell would turn up in minutes, just before her brother could free himself but well after they would be all gone. She couldn't help but smile…no one has accepted her like this before…with unquestioning respect.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Dante prompted, heading out in the direction of the portal, part of him relieved he could get out of here already, out of this land of unknown rules. He secretly hated the unknown, and found it a royal pain in the ass. What couldn't be simply shot at or killed was not very enjoyable.

Vergil paced to Vesta and passed her without a single glance or a word. The scent of bitter dark chocolate besieged her senses. She was about to protest when he suddenly turned and dipped her into a deep kiss before letting her go with an expressionless face. What thoughts lingered in the shallows of his mind now, at the rousing scent of wilderness that coiled softly from her hair? Bad, bad thoughts…

"Well? Are you not going yank my trousers down and ravage me?" she played a wicked smile on him, tilting her head teasingly while sinking her canine into her puckered lips. She definitely did not plan on being an angel.

"I am no longer bound by the grips of hell, and therefore I have no need for distractions," Vergil said casually, his seemingly vacant face hiding him holding back his raving passions. He had so much to discover yet, so much to experience, yet he had to be patient despite it all screaming and kicking to get out all at once. He would look to his mother for guidance before scaring Vesta with his unleashed human desires…

"All right you guys! You know, no rush, no rush, you just sort this out right here, and I'll just hold the whole hell while you…sort things out, no problem," Dante butted in, half turned to them with his hands in his pockets, keeping an eye on the distorted horizon. Like those distractions, Vergil rested his case with an eye-roll.

"Ah, I see, so what was this then?" completely oblivious to Dante's rant and Vergil's attempt to hold his horses, as her eyes never left Vergil's, she placed her finger on her lips that were still moist with his kiss.

"That was a completely different kind of a need," Vergil left it at that, not wanting to elaborate. At least not now, there would be a time and place, when he was ready.

"Then the days of the wild, impulsive, passion wielding warrior are over?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to hear the answer that she thought she would hear; that he didn't want her anymore, at least not in that sense, and she could not take that out completely from her life, not for very long. The wait for what he would say was agonizing even though it took only a few seconds.

"I didn't say that," Vergil said adamantly, and Vesta saw a spark of something new that has been growing in his eyes, coming to full life right before her. It was a hunger for life, a deep, embedded want for another, one that she hoped had always been there, only subdued by the burden of darkness, one that was going to stay there no matter what may come…as long as she was there to keep it alive. At that very moment his eyes told her that he had seen something more in her than a means to a salvation.

He saw a lifelong companion, his woman, his lover…

_I sought power from my barely adult life, power as the means to survive the darkness, the emptiness that consumed me. But I have been searching in the wrong place._

_I know now. I know that power does not reside in physical ability alone but in the ability to invoke change in self and in others. That is when I realised she is more powerful than me, as she has changed herself and she has changed me…_

_Now, I will do the same for her, I will embrace this change and step out of my shell, and in doing so, I will change her life for the better… _

_That is my legacy, that is what I should have done so many long, dark years ago. For my brother…_

_As a small token of recompense, that is what I will do now…_

Vergil switched from Vesta's brightening eyes and surveyed Dante's beautifully satisfied, untroubled face, keen and expectant of all the new, good things to come. Even in hell, he had the upper hand, he was his younger brother, yet mature in the most strange of senses.

…_yes, I will make Dante rebuild father's mansion all by himself…_

A breath of a smirk appeared on the older twin's lips as he turned to leave the place he once was a prisoner of, now a free man.

* * *

_So there you have it, now this is truly the end. I hope you have enjoyed this long journey, and if you have, and have not told me yet, then please do so, it will feed my desire to perhaps come back for more…_

_Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, you pushed me on to finished the story. Do let me know what you thought of the ending please! _

_Thanks to Ash for finally reviewing too (wink) – you made me smile! Thank you kindly!_

_Ta-ra, goodbye, __sayounara__, nashledanou, au revoir, auf wiedersehen!_

_Tora_


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